


What Would I Be Without You?

by BoundLight



Series: Oh the Sights You Will See [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Biting, Drums are removed, First time Doctor Who writer, M/M, Notice the rating went up, Sexy Times, Time Lords are rather clever telepaths, Torture, bottom!Master, top!Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoundLight/pseuds/BoundLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rassilon wants the Master to find the Time Lords another way out of the time lock, and now that the Master is trapped they have all the time in the world to force him to cooperate. An uninterested Master soon finds his own way out and hurtiling towards Earth, but this time it's Captain Jack who finds him first, and he doesn't want the Doctor to get hurt again. Unfortunately the Doctor has other thoughts about that. </p><p>Crossposted at fanfiction.net</p><p>This is my first posting in this community, and my first posting on this website! Be gentle!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gallifrey

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I know about Time Lord physiology and Gallifreyan geography I learned from the TARDIS wiki, the rest has been made up. Artistic license!

The Master sent another bolt of electricity into Rassilon's still retreating form. He could feel the time lock closing around him; he had only moments and then there was a good chance he'd never see his Doctor again. He hit Rassilon one last time and then turned.

 

His Doctor looked devastated, and the Master couldn't help but grin, happy in the knowledge that perhaps this meant his Doctor cared for him. Of course there was every chance that he just didn't want to he alone again, but for right now, just this once, he would pretend it was love.

 

Then the Doctor was gone.

 

The Master stopped his attack on Rassilon the second the portal closed. The man collapsed, and the Time Lords surrounding him instantly rushed to his aid. The Master spared a moment to send a smirk in their direction before he doubled over in agony. The noise! The weight of thousands upon thousands of Time Lord minds pressing against him! For once even the drums were drowned out. He'd spent so long in the silence outside the time lock that he'd forgotten what this was like.

 

The Master pressed his palms firmly over his ears in the hopes that would help, and quickly drew up his shields as tightly as he could.

 

Gradually the noise faded, and only the drums remained as a faint thrumming in the back of his skull.

 

When he felt he could he released the hair he'd crushed in his fingers and stood. The other Time Lords were still crowded around Rassilon, slowly helping him to his feet. He ignored them; there was no point in running. There was no where he could hide where they wouldn't find him. Instead he took in the council room in which they stood. He was unimpressed. The room was drab and reminded him a bit of the room he'd first entered as Prime Minister. As he did a slow turn he wondered how many other species had rooms like this, and what it was about the configuration that made it so transferable.

 

A strangled noise drew his attention back. “Do you have any idea what you've done?”

 

The Master shrugged. “Thwarted you? It's about time I've gotten to thwart someone.” He grinned in a way that he knew made him look a bit deranged. “Consider it pay back for the drums.”

 

“Oh, child. You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into.” Rassilon nodded, and the doors to the room burst open, an armed guard entering.

 

The Master crossed his arms. He expected the blow to the head and the darkness that followed.

 

\----------

 

He jerked awake, the clacking of metal on metal filling the room.

 

Faint artificial light trickled in from somewhere far above him, but it was muddled, allowing just enough for him to make out the few feet around him and nothing else. For all he knew he could have a silent audience, though he did not expect this was so; the voices in his mind were faint.

 

There was a terrible pain in his head, which was a given, and he was cold, which was not. A quick glance down reveled that he was stripped to the waist. He wasn't ashamed of his body – to the contrary, he quite liked his new regenerations form – but he had never really thought of how much weaker one felt without clothing to hide behind. He pushed the fear behind him, hiding it away deep in his mind. Instead he looked at himself critically, looking for anything he could use to his advantage when the time came for him to escape.

 

His arms had been secured at the wrist with heavy cuffs of Gallifreyan design, and he felt the weight of a matching one around his neck. They'd be the most difficult to remove; they'd been specifically designed to make escaped prisoners easy to find both by how obvious they were and by causing an intense amount of pain upon removal. As far as he knew no prisoner had ever been able to remove all three without first being caught or killed. The cuffs were linked to thick chains that had stretched his arms apart as far as they could go. He was already chaffing, and when he tugged at the chains he could feel the bite into his skin. The collar around his neck was likewise fastened to the ceiling. The Master groaned and allowed his head to fall forward. The collar allowed his head to drop a few inches; any more and he began to choke. Bound as he was, he was unable to stand or sit, and was instead left kneeling in the middle of the cell.

 

_I probably deserve this_.

 

The Master jerked. In all his life he'd never once thought the words but now... Well, there was no hope, was there? He grinned in the darkness. If only his – no, not his, never his, not any more – _the_ Doctor could see him now. Would he be satisfied that the Master was paying his dues for all the trouble he'd caused? Or would he feel pity in those great hearts of his?

 

As the Master looked around the ache in his head intensified and the world began to spin. He closed his eyes and let unconsciousness claim him again.

 

He awoke with his heart in his throat. For a few desperate moments he tugged frantically at his wrists, uncertain of where he was or why he was restrained. Then it all came flooding back. His foiled plot to take over the Earth, the Doctor, the gun, Rassilon, the time lock. He settled quickly; fear would get him no where. Thankfully the pain in his skull had dulled, allowing him to focus better. His senses told him he'd been unconscious for roughly eight hours and already a dull throb had set in his wrists.

 

He still felt as though he was alone, so he took a moment to try and get his legs beneath him. His knees cracked loudly, but he only made it a few inches before he came falling back, tugging harshly at his neck. He cursed as he rearranged himself.

 

Hours later somewhere off in the distance a door opened and footsteps drew near. He quickly adopted the most bored expression he could muster and waited.

 

The Time Lord who emerged from the darkness cut an opposing figure. He had cropped black hair, a scared face, and a body that looked more like a brick wall than any thing else.

 

The Master glared at him. He was the Master of all, he had fought against the Doctor for centuries, there was no way he was going to be intimidated by anyone.

 

The Time Lord smirked. “Do you know why they sent me?”

 

“Because that bastard Rassilon was too afraid to face me himself?”

 

In two strides the Time Lord was towering over him. He brought down a fist hard. The Master spat a mouthful of blood at his feet. “Struck a nerve?”

 

The Time Lord fisted a hand in the Master's hair, and jerked his head back hard enough that the collar began to cut off his oxygen. The Master blinked and consciously slowed his breathing, altering his physiology to require less air. The Time Lord loomed over him. “Would you like to see how long you can hold your breath? Would you like me to hold you here until even your bypass fails?” He paused as though waiting for an answer. The Master refused to give him one. The Time Lord released his hold, and the Master couldn't stop the gasp that escaped. “You may call me Chief.”

 

The Master glared, ashamed that he was panting.

 

The Chief grinned and moved to the edge of the circle of light, slowly walking around the Master, moving just outside of his line of sight.

 

The Master refused to turn; refused to give him that satisfaction.

 

There was silence for almost five minutes before a hand landed on the Master's shoulder and lips pressed against his ear. “Do you know why they've sent me, Master? Because I'm the best at what they've got planed for you. You see, you have two options. Either you can behave and be completely cooperative, or we can do this... the fun way.” He grinned. “Well, fun for _me_ anyway. So here's what you're going to do. You are going to find a way for us to get out of this time lock.” The Master pulled away, but the Chief dragged him back. “Oh, yes. Yes you are. You are going to find a way, and then just _maybe_ we'll let you live. So what will it be, Master? Are you going to help us, or are you going to fight?”

 

“You can all rot here.” The Master growled.

 

The Chief grinned. “I am so happy to hear you say that.” He ran his fingers threw the Master's hair, then pressed two fingers to his temple.

 

The Master gasped as he felt the Time Lord enter his mind, then felt a burning pain as all of his memories, all of his thoughts and feelings ran behind his eyes as the Chief flipped through them. The Master tried to resist. He tried to hold things back, but the more he struggled the more painful it was. The Chief laughed. “Yes, yes, fight me, child.” He pressed harder. The Master bit his tongue until he tasted blood, refusing to make a sound “Fight.”

 

He was unsure how much time had passed by the time the Chief was finished. The Master fell forward, uncaring that the chains were cutting painfully into his wrists and neck. “So, my pretty, you love him? How interesting.” He trailed his fingers against the skin at the base of the Master's neck, stepped carefully over his extended arm, and crouched down at eye level. “Hello, Master.”

 

The Master's eyes widened. He knew it was an illusion, but he couldn't help the shivers that ran through him. The Chief was gone. In his place was the Doctor, wearing his usual blue suit, his red converse sneakers, and his brown coat. The Doctor pet his face. “Master.” He winked, “I know you love it when I say your name.”

 

The Master swallowed. “You're not him.”

 

The Doctor smiled affectionately. “I am, Koschei. And I've missed you.”

 

“You're not him. You will never be him.”

 

The Doctor laughed. “Oh, my friend, you were always so stubborn. Don't you remember me? Don't you remember running through the red grass with me? You promised we'd explore the stars together. Even then I know how much you wanted to kiss me, how much you longed to claim me. I was so sad you never did.” With a boyish grin the Doctor leaned in and captured the Master's lips.

 

Even though he knew it was a lie, the Master couldn't help the sound that escaped him. He couldn't help leaning in, kissing the Doctor back.

 

Reluctantly the Doctor pulled away and pressed his lips to the Master's forehead. “Will you help me, Master? Help me get out of here?”

 

The Master took a deep shuddering breath. “No.”

 

The Doctor's face twisted in fury. He pressed his fingers to the Master's head, and he could do nothing but scream. It could have been hours, but it might have been days later by the time the Doctor pulled his fingers away, and the Master collapsed as much as his chains would allow. The Doctor placed a hand under his chin. His face was quietly amused. “Now for the real fun.” With a grin he stepped back, his features morphing into that of the Chief. He turned his back on the Master and walked into the darkness, returning moments later with a thick, heavy whip. He held it with a practiced ease. It descended with a crack.

 

Despite the Chief's threat, this was much easier to handle. The Master could cope with a physical assault, he'd done so many times in the past. He steeled himself against the pain and retreated into his own head.

 

The drums were pounding loudly around him, but that was an after thought. He was more concerned with his shields.

 

To his dismay the Chief's attack had caused them to fall around what he considered his consciousness like broken glass. Jagged edges appeared here and there, but for the most part they were ground underfoot. They were a lost cause.

 

He stared at them  
absently as he thought. What he needed was a plan, and he needed one quickly. The problem was he _knew_ that if he wasn't careful he would end up helping Rassilon. One of the many curses of being brilliant was that once his mind caught onto an idea he often could not help but chase it to its conclusion, and breaking out of a time lock... that was quite the idea. Even now he could see the swirls of dark ink forming, the ifs and hows teasing at the air. He needed to lock it away... put it somewhere where he could access it and use it for himself, but away from them.

 

The area around him morphed as he considered the problem. He needed to place the idea in the open, somewhere so obvious it wouldn't be considered. But he couldn't allow it to be unprotected. So it needed to have something basic to hide it. Down? Like a cellar perhaps. A cellar lost in all this glass. A locked door in what his mental landscape considered to be the ground, with the shattered remains of his shields scattered over it.

 

Instantly such a place formed, and the still developing mists of the idea vanished into it. Once it was sealed even the Master could not easily locate it. Now how would he keep attention off it? Because unfortunately in this state the Chief could see everything, so he needed to offer a bigger target. He needed to look like he was protecting something, and he needed to protect it with everything he had. It couldn't be that he was protecting nothing; that would give away the endgame in the likely event that the Chief managed to get through. So he also needed a prize. The Chief needed to think the Master hadn't staged it. But what was big enough? What could he sacrifice?

 

Unbidden, the Doctor's face formed in the shadows.

 

The Master frowned at the thought. But, as always, he was right. It needed to be the Doctor. Nothing else would seem big enough. Nothing else made him weak enough. And better yet, after the Time Lord gained this information he would believe he had something to break him with. The Master grinned, little did the Chief know, he was already broken.

 

He walked briskly away from the vault in the ground, moving towards the red mountains that created the illusion of distance in his mindscape. Once he was sure he was far enough away that nothing shattered or thrown would reveal the room he stretched his mind and analyzed how much the Chief had learned from him when he'd torn through his mind.

 

After a moment he had the answer. He'd just skimmed. The Chief had seen his affection as a child and followed that affection to his latest escapades. The Master laughed. He'd missed all the really _good_ stuff, and luckily this _was_ information he did want to protect. But sacrifices must be made.

 

When he opened his eyes the Doctor stood in front of him, and not just the bastardized version the Chief had thrown together, but his _actual_ Doctor. In his eyes the Master saw all of the darkness and guilt he held for things that truthfully weren't his fault, but sparking among that pain he also saw all the boundless joy and childlike wonder.

 

Then all his previous incarnations stepped around them, ending in the lovely Theta Sigma. A few of the Doctor's more notable companions soon joined them, then the TARDIS, and soon every thought and feeling he'd ever associated with the man, even the ones he was still ashamed of, circled around him like a colorful stream that pulled at his consciousness, vying for his attention. The Chief thought he'd been crippled by imitating love, but if he found these feelings he could easily destroy the Master completely.

 

The Master paused. If the Chief was really good he could even manipulate those memories and erase the Doctor completely.

 

No, he couldn't think about that. This was necessary.

 

Once his memories were amassed around him he started on his shields. As a Time Lord from his very first breath he'd been trained in shielding, and he wasn't called the Master for nothing. Guarding this small space would allow the shields to be stronger than they would be if he protected the whole of his mind, but he still obviously needed something stronger than what he'd had before if he wanted to endure the Chief's next attack. With a bit of mental flexing he'd created a glass dome above them. Then the surface flexed and seemed to melt as it became even harder, soon blending black as it began to resemble stone. On the outside he formed large slabs that would prevent a direct blow, and on the inside he reinforced as much as was possible without filling in the inside entirely. He built and shaped as long as he could, his every thought instantly forming, his plan fleshing out and adding to the strength of the structure until he was sure it was impenetrable, even the drums were for once locked out, leaving nothing but a very faint pounding coming from outside. Then he turned to the image of his Doctor standing to the side, looking rather impressed. The Master tried not to preen in front of a figment of his own imagination. “How would you break in?”

 

“Hmm?” The figment asked.

 

“You're the Doctor. How would you get in?”

 

The Doctor rocked back on his red covered feet, his hands deep in his pockets. “ _Well..._ Sure, the outside is reinforced... but what about the ground?”

 

The Master frowned. “What?”

 

“Humans are fantastic, you know?” The Master rolled his eyes. “No, really! You can't get in above or to the sides, right? You're too good for that,” he winked, “but you always overlook something. What's to stop him from digging under and coming up from below? This is your _mind_ after all, you've got to consider all angles.”

 

“How do humans come into that?” The Master asked incredulously.

 

“Farmers! To stop rabbits from coming in they built fences! But the rabbits dug underneath and got in anyway!”

 

“That means the _rabbits_ are fantastic.” Despite his words of protest, as the Doctor spoke the ground reinforced to steel. Where the sphere they were inclosed in met the imagined ground he cut straight down and completed the circle with the same material, and just as deeply and complexly as the formation above.

 

The Doctor smiled. “I always knew you were _brilliant._ ”

 

The Master scowled. “It was _your_ idea.”

 

“But at the moment I _am_ you.”

 

The Master shook his head and walked away, doing his best to ignore the other Doctors around him. This was now war, and until he worked out how to get out of this cell and how to get out of the time lock he wasn't leaving his mind. That was too dangerous; it left an opening, now matter how faint. He was staying put.

 

Despite this, as a Time Lord he was uniquely tuned to the workings of his body, and outside his mind in the real world he could feel the countless stripes that now decorated his chest, arms, and back, and the blood tracing its way down his body and pooling in a tacky mess around his knees. He knew by now his head was lolling against the collar and that his eyes were probably closed. To anyone he'd look unconscious. He flexed his mental presence and was satisfied when he felt the Chief leave. It was a pity that he thought he'd won, but then, sometimes you had to fake a loss to get ahead in the next round.

 

Unbidden, his arms began to tug their restraints to the beat of the drums.

 

\-------

 

It was a full day before the Chief returned. He grinned at the sight. Blood had tracked down the Master's arms and chest, both from the wounds that had been inflicted yesterday, but it also seemed he'd managed to mangle his wrists during the night. Self inflicted injuries made his job so much easier.

 

“How are we today, child?”

 

The Master stared vacantly ahead, his hands and fingers twitching a rhythm of four.

 

“Are you ready to cooperate?” He pet the Master's hair gently. He cooed when he received no response. “All you needed was a good beating, wasn't it? Oh, you poor baby. Tell you what,” he tipped the Master's head back so he could gaze into empty eyes, “play nice with me and maybe I'll take care of you, alright? Now let's see what you've got for me, hm?” He dived into the Master's mind.

 

Everything was chaos spinning out of control. Behind it all was a deafening drum beat. The Chief found himself physically flung from the Master's mind leaving a residual burn in his fingers and an ache in his mind.

 

The Chief snarled at the Master's still form. He pulled back a fist and paused. He'd never had a prisoner launch such an attack before. This needed to be reported to Rassilon.

 

Once the message had been sent, the Chief returned to the cell and studied the Master. “I bet you think you're so clever.” He gestured and two Time Lords entered carrying a large barrel filled with water. The Chief moved to the wall and pushed a button. Instantly all the chains slacked and the Master fell to the floor. The two Time Lords joined his hands behind him and left the room.

 

The Chief dragged the Master to his feet and plunged his head into the water.

 

\----------

 

The Master felt something faint.

 

His body was moving. Then there was a rush, and he could feel the water around him.

 

He looked up to the dome of his mental bunker and began counting the seconds. After three minutes had passed the Master shifted uncomfortably. If he had been fully in control that would be one thing but right now he could only trust his body to do what it needed to survive. He tried to concentrate on it; he tried to focus on his cells expanding and utilizing oxygen more efficiently.

 

Five minutes passed; all the Master could do was watch and wait.

 

He jerked when something soft pressed into his hand. Theta Sigma smiled up at him. The Master didn't feel like smiling, but somehow Theta always made him do things he didn't feel like doing. He picked the boy up and returned his eyes upward.

 

Theta stared at him for a moment and then followed his gaze.

 

The Master frowned as the dome began to change. He was certain he hadn't done it. Small hands pressed against his face, turning his head, demanding his attention. Once Theta was sure the Master was watching him, he looked back up at the dome that now resembled the burnt orange sky and the stars above Gallifrey.

 

The Master looked at Theta Sigma questioningly. Then Theta started talking.

 

“A long long time ago Gallifrey's two suns fell in love. And while they were very happy one sun felt a deep sadness that for some reason he could not explain. Then, while he and his love were on opposite sides of the planet, he met the moon, and instantly he felt complete. Every day he spent half his time with his love, the sun, and half his time with his passion, the moon. One day the moon told him she was pregnant. The sun was ecstatic! But the moon was jealous that she didn't have the sun's full attention, so she gave him an ultimatum. He could either stay with her and her children, or he could stay with the second sun. The sun didn't know what to do. He loved her, but he loved the sun as well. He refused to choose between them. To punish him, when the moon gave birth she filled the night sky with stars, but the sun would always shine too bright to see them.”

 

“Am I the moon in this little story of yours?” The Master grumbled.

 

“Does that make me the sun?”

 

“Aren't you _always_ the sun? The center of everything? Leaving us all dependent, only to die when you leave us?” He felt guilty after saying it, especially to Theta. “Anyway... how do you know that?”

 

“Hm?” Theta looked away from the dome and the stars faded.

 

“I've never learned a thing about the stars, how can a figment of my imagination know?”

 

Theta laughed. “Of course you know about the stars.”

 

“Enough to navigate by certainly, but I can honestly say I've never cared much about mythology.”

 

Theta clapped his hands on the Master's shoulders and started babbling again. The Master smiled indulgently. He'd forgotten how lovely his Theta had been.

 

The boy frowned and tapped his face.

 

The Master tried to focus on what he was saying, but Theta's voice had faded away. Everything was fading. In a flash the Master realized his bypass must have kicked in, and must be failing. He laughed. The Chief must have fucked up, and was about to kill him. But that was okay. That meant he'd be able to die without helping the Time Lords escape, and he'd die around what were honestly his happiest memories, with Theta's face being in his final moments.

 

In a flash his Doctor was in his face, demanding his attention in a way that was hilariously similar to what Theta had done. The Doctor's previous regenerations circled around them. His Doctor grabbed his chin. “ _Listen to me_.”

 

The Master tried to give him that.

 

“You can't die.”

 

“Apparently I can.”

 

“They need you.”

 

“Not too badly it seems.”

 

“They don't want you to regenerate, you're weakened now, you're perfect.”

 

The Master grinned. “I won't regenerate, Doctor, I promise you that.”

 

The Doctor's face hardened. Theta gasped and gripped his shoulders. “You can't leave us!”

 

“You can't leave _me_!” The Doctor shouted.

 

“No choice really.” The Master said. The dome was starting to darken around its edges, and knowing he would soon die the Master reached out a hand and dragged his Doctor as close as he could while holding Theta, pressing their lips together. His Doctor latched onto him, kissing him desperately. The Master wished he could match that level of intensity, but he could already feel his life draining away.

 

There was a sudden jolt, and the Master gasped against his Doctor's lips.

 

Air was flooding his lungs. Outside of his mind he was certain his body was coughing up water too, but without leaving he had no way to verify that. There was another jolt, and he knew his body had hit the ground and was being dragged back into position.

 

There was a sudden burning pain and the Master knew the Chief had entered his mind again. Agony gripped him and when it was all over there was... silence.

 

The Master fell to his knees, gasping. The drums were gone. They'd only been a faint pounding, but their absence felt like the world had dropped out beneath him. He hated the drums, he'd hated them his whole life, but now that they were gone... could they really be gone?

 

Hands rubbed his back. The Master looked up to see the Doctor's fifth regeneration giving him a concerned look. His ninth watched on with a serious expression. “Are you alright?”

 

The Master glared. “Of course.”

 

The ninth regeneration didn't seem too convinced, but the Master didn't really care what his figments thought of him.

 

The burning sensation was back, and the Master quickly stood. The drums could wait, the Chief was here.

 

The Master flared his consciousness bright so the Chief would know exactly where to find him. It worked, and soon the Master could feel the Chief's mind circling the dome, testing it for weaknesses. Then the assault began.

 

The Master was pleased everything didn't instantly crumble, and as the barrage thundered around him the Master relaxed to the sound of artificial drums.

 

Without the Chief distorting his perception of the passage of time, the Master was able to time exactly how long the attack lasted. Two hours, twenty three minutes. When the Chief finally retreated, the Master felt his chains once again slack and his head was once again plunged in water.

 

“It's time.” His Doctor stood beside him.

“For what?”

 

“You need to get out of here. It's time to put that idea into action.”

 

The Master frowned. “I –”

 

“No, now.”

 

The Master closed his eyes.

 

When he opened them he was soaking wet, sprawled on the floor. He flexed his mind and found he was alone. He scrambled to his feet and studied his wrists, his mind already racing. After a full examination a wide grin spread across his face. It really was a shame he wasn't more willing to help his people out; there was a rather large design flaw. Unfortunately for the Time Lords in making the cuffs so thoroughly cling to a prisoner, the weakest point would be the connection between the cuffs and the chains. He couldn't remove the cuffs, he certainly couldn't break the chains, but he just _might_ be able to break the connection between the two.

 

First he rubbed his hands together. He frowned when they didn't build up a charge. The Chief must have taken that from him as well. He'd known objectively that it was an anomaly that he'd even acquired the talent at all, but he'd grown rather fond of the trick. But that was alright; he'd make due. The Master quickly dragged his left hand across his body and tucked it tightly to his right side then he moved until the chain was stretched tight. He did some quick math, angled the chain, and then brought down his foot with his full weight behind it.

 

He saw white and struggled not to cry out.

 

When his vision cleared he was pleased to see the connector twisted. A little further manipulation freed his hand. He repeated the method with his right hand.

 

While his wrists ached and there was shooting numbness in his hands, it felt good to be freed. He flexed his fingers in an attempt to regain feeling as he eyed the chain that connected to the collar.

 

In the distance he heard a door open and footsteps. The Master froze. There was no hiding what he'd done or pretending that he was still restrained. All the Master could do was straighten up, shake out his hands until he was sure he could flex them properly, and face the Chief.

 

The Chief stopped before he hit the circle of light. The Master smirked at the darkness. After a few tense minutes the Master laughed. “Afraid?”

 

The Chief stepped forward, eying the Master critically. A long, curved blade hung in one hand. He circled the Master; this time the Master followed.

 

“I was starting to wonder if you'd come back at all. That was quite the cowardly thing you did.”

 

The Master's smirk widened. “Come see how much of a coward I am. If you can.”

 

The Chief moved back into the darkness. Moments later the chain linked to the Master's collar tightened, dragging him back into the center of the room. There was a pause, and then the chain tightened further, dragging the Master up on his toes.

 

The Chief stepped back into the light, fingering his blade lovingly.

 

The Master brought his hands up and grabbed hold of the chain. Then he propelled himself off the floor, flipping up and around it. The Chief watched on, fascinated. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

 

The Master used his hold to drag himself further up.

 

“You can climb all you like, there's nothing at the top but more brick... and nothing keeping me from lowering you back down.”

 

The Master pulled again. In his head calculations were already running. He knew how much force it would take to break the connection, all he needed was the right height to accomplish it. He gave one final twist, and then let go, relaxing his body as much as he could. A broken bone would hinder him, but cuts and bruises were acceptable. When he finally reached the end of the chain there was a tremendous jerk, and for a moment he was worried he'd miscalculated and broken his neck.

 

Then his body slammed to the ground, and he breathed deep.

 

He pushed himself up and glared at the Chief. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the look of fear on the Time Lord's face, but he relished in it.

 

The Master tried to look menacing as he took a step forward, but his knee gave out with his first step and he fell to the ground.

 

The Chief laughed and lunged. The Master swore and rolled. Before the Chief could land land a hit the Master was back up, staggering to his feet.

 

The Chief recovered and rounded on the Master, the blade catching him high across his shoulder, and again down the side. The Master crashed to the ground again, but he was up faster.

 

The Master could feel his limbs better now, and at the Chief's next attack he was back to his fluid nature, using his smaller stature for speed, rolling under and often over the Chief in an effort to avoid his attacks. He was mostly successful, though he quickly lost track over the placement of his new wounds against the other ones decorating his body.

 

The Chief grew tired quickly; he was used to torturing a stationary victim, not chasing one around the rather large room. As he tired, his patience wore thin and his lunges came in erratic sweeping arches. The Master's mind continued to work quickly as he avoided attacks. He knew at this rate the Chief would make a mistake. All he had to do was wait until he saw an opening, and exploit it.

 

As he predicted the Chief quickly made a miscalculated lunge and went sailing too far to the right. The Master was on him instantly, knocking the knife from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor.

 

The Master went running for it, the Chief hot on his heels.

 

As his hand closed around it, the Chief grabbed him by his collar and slammed him to the ground, pinning the knife and his arm beneath his back at such an angle that the Master was unable to free it.

 

The Chief panted as the Master struggled beneath him, using his full weight to keep the smaller man from escaping. “You look so good beneath me.” The Chief purred. He shoved one large thigh between the Master's legs, and rubbed him firmly through his jeans. “Aw, is that for me?”

 

The Master's lips pulled back in a snarl, and then the Chief was gone, and the Doctor was above him The Master knew that this was coming, but he couldn't stop his eyes from widening as the Doctor kissed him firmly, one hand gripping his chin tightly to keep him in place.

 

It took the Master almost a full minute before he retaliated, biting the Doctor's tongue. The Doctor pulled back without a sound and struck the Master hard enough that his vision blacked out. Then the Doctor's hand was back, holding his jaw so roughly he was unable to move it, and his tongue was back down the Master's throat. There was  a buzzing in his head, and Master tasted blood. He wasn't sure if it was the Doctor's or his own.

 

Distantly the Master felt the Doctor's other hand thread through his hair, and then his body was on fire as the Doctor lit up his nerve endings. When he'd been inside his protected mental shell, he'd been safe from the pain, but now, fully aware and with his shields shattered, there was nothing he could do to stop himself arching painfully off the ground and writhing against the Doctor's unforgiving body.

 

The Doctor kissed him through his agony, pausing only when the Master thought he might find an escape in the unconsciousness oxygen deprivation would provide. As the Master gasped, the Doctor trailed open mouthed kisses down his jaw, and bit at the skin around the metal collar. He pressed a wet kiss to the Master's ear. “Scream for me.” The Doctor caressed the Master again, lighting up his pain receptors, and the Master did.

 

The Master tried to regain himself as he thrashed. He could feel the Chief inside his head, subtly manipulating his sight, and stimulating his pain receptors. While his eyes saw only the Doctor, there was no way for the Chief to disguise his mind. The Master tried to block the Chief out, but this served only in encouraging the Chief to increase the amount of pain he felt.

 

It felt like hours had passed by the time he felt it. His arm was free, and the knife was still in his hand. In his mind he felt the Chief realize it at the same time.

 

The Doctor's hand flew from his jaw in an attempt to restrain his wrist, but the Master was faster. They both stilled as he buried the knife in the Doctor's stomach.

 

The Doctor's face was covered in betrayal before he again became the Chief.

 

The Master twisted the blade, and grinned when the Chief cried out in agony and warm blood slicked his arm. As he began to slump, the Master pulled out the blade and stabbed the Chief again and again, until he began to glow gold. Once the regeneration started, the Master kicked the Chief's body off him and moved far enough away that the Chief's regeneration would not trigger his own. He pounced on the Chief the second his new body appeared and slammed his head firmly against the ground, knocking him out.

 

The Master backed away, panting. He didn't understand what he was feeling. He felt... nothing. Blank.

 

Normally he would keep cutting into the Chief, burning away all his regenerations for what he'd done, but for some reason right now he felt no desire to end the Time Lord's life. Unconscious was good enough.

 

The knife slipped to the floor, and the Master's hands drifted to his head. His whole being resonating with the silence. His breathing sounded too loud, his pulse was hammering against his ear drums, and in the quiet of the room he was beginning to panic. He tried to ground himself, but he didn't know how. He'd never needed anything but the drums before. He closed his eyes and his mind spiraled down until it found the one remaining solid space in his mind. There was still a mark from where he'd exited, and the outside was covered in dark scorch marks from the Chief's attack, but it was otherwise intact. It brought him some comfort to know that even in the shattered wreckage of his mind the Doctor was safe.

 

He wrapped his mind around it, and breathed.

 

Then he opened his eyes, picked up the knife, and stepped into the darkness.

 

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. When they did the room came into definition, and he realized his initial feeling had been right. There were rows of benches set up to allow an audience to watch the interrogation. His red shirt and black hoodie were carelessly draped over the last bench, and had clearly been searched through. The Master checked, and grumbled. His laser screwdriver was gone.

 

He considered the shirt and eyed his chest uncertainly. He was covered in deep gouges, many still leaking blood. It was a bad idea to let his open wounds press against a shirt that was probably filthy. The Master rolled his eyes and tugged the red shirt on, grimacing as it settled over his frame. Fuck it. It would teach his immune system a lesson in self preservation. He pulled his black hoodie on over it and shook the cloth out, rolling his shoulders. His wrists burned around the fabric and the Master tugged at the cloth uncomfortably. He itched to pull the sleeves up over the metal cuffs and settle them high on his arm, but he stopped himself. His attire was going to be surprising enough on Gallifrey, but in a world of travelers, the outfit could be explained away. The collar and cuffs however would undoubtedly get him reported.

 

The Master sighed and forced himself to ignore the feeling. He grabbed the knife off the floor, and walked to the far wall where a small indention reveled the door. He scoffed when he reached it. Another design flaw. The door was unlocked. He understood that prisoners were supposed to be restrained at all times, but as he'd just proven, sometimes restraints fail. It really was a pity he didn't intend to stay. The Master opened the door soundlessly and looked out into the hallway beyond. It was deserted.

 

The Master stepped out and closed the door softly behind him.

 

Getting out of the prison wasn't difficult. The Master was used to getting out of tricky situations, and this wasn't the first prison he'd ever broken out of. Still, this was one of the easiest. He tsked under his breath. Really, they were just _asking_ for a break out. He was half tempted to open a few cells and get a real riot going, but that would require time he didn't have. As he slipped through the final exit he hoped someone got in a _lot_ of trouble for this. He just hoped it wouldn't be him.

 

The prison was located in the heart of the Capitol; it was the place where Rassilon kept political prisoners. There were more prisons across the planet, usually in some area where they could be made to work for the betterment of Time Lord technology. The Master was glad he'd been kept here; it saved him the trouble of working his way back.

 

Even though the Master could feel the city teaming with life, the streets were deserted. It was an unusual sight. As a child he and Theta had frequently snuck out to this major city, and had been easily lost in the press of bodies going about their daily lives. Now there wasn't anyone as far as the eye could see. Before everything had gone to shit and he'd gotten stuck in the portal the Doctor had warned him that Gallifrey at war was something entirely different, but he'd never imagined it would change everything in such a small but ultimately fundamental way.

 

The Master tugged his hood up over his face and forced himself to keep to the shadows and alleyways as he pressed forward. It made traveling slow and a bit tricky, but in a war bound planet, it was probably less conspicuous than projecting a mental deflection shield.

 

Eventually he found the city's major museum.

 

There were two guards on duty at the museum entrance. They were both nearing the end of their regeneration cycles and as such seemed weary. They eyed the Master's attire strangely, but he figured they were used to seeing children playing hooky, and adults keeping score. He walked as if he knew what he looked like, and he had every right to wear Earth style clothing. He wasn't sure if they bought it, but after he flashed them his “Vote for Saxon” smile and sent them a mental greeting they relaxed.

 

Aside from the guards and a bored tour guide two floors away, the museum was empty. The Master grinned. It was perfect. He hoped this would teach Rassilon a lesson about encouraging his subjects to ignore history.

 

The Time Lord museum was vast, and contained a room or at very least a wall about every planet any Time Lord had ever visited.

 

The Master's eyes skipped past them all.

 

As a child he'd been forced to look at them so much by an over enthused Theta Sigma that he had every placard memorized. At the time he'd been insulted at the mental space he'd just been forced to waste, but now it helped him move exactly where he wanted to go. Seven floors up to the time traveling section. This was arguably the largest section in the museum aside from the Shadow Proclamation, and was actually a dedication to Rassilon himself if one bothered to read the material instead of look at the displays.

 

The Master eyed the TARDIS model longingly. He knew it would be non functional. Time Lords were incredibly protective of their technology, and all TARDIS machines would be under lock and key.

 

He wasn't here for that.

 

He passed the model machine with a fond pat and began the trek down the line of earlier time traveling models.

 

He stopped by the vortex manipulators and eyed them carefully through their glass containers. They looked functional but without an inside look he couldn't tell for sure.

 

The Master cast his eyes around and spotted a small collection of tools. The sonic screwdriver caught his attention. It wasn't as good as his laser screwdriver, but it reminded him of his Doctor. It would do.

 

He calculated the time it would take for the guards to respond, then he slammed his elbow through the glass and grabbed the two vortex manipulators. He stuffed them in the pouch of his hoodie and quickly broke the glass protecting the tools and stole the screwdriver. He was out the door and down the back staircase before the guards made it to the room.

 

The Master kept running when he hit the street, a map of the city laid out in his mind.

 

After four blocks he ducked into another alley, scaled a fence and dropped soundlessly behind a brick staircase. If he was right, and he usually was, the staircase would lead to another museum. This one small and dedicated to art. If the major museum had been empty he was sure this one would be as well.

 

He waited in the shadows for ten minutes. He told himself he was waiting to see if he'd been followed, but the ache in his chest and his uneven breathing told another story.

 

At eleven minutes he allowed himself to sink to the ground and draw his knees to his chest.

 

After fifteen minutes he forced himself back into action. The Chief had to be conscious by now, which meant Rassilon knew he was out. The break in at the museum was sure to be brought to his attention at some point. It wouldn't take a genius to connect the two.

 

The Master shifted and laid out the two vortex manipulators on the step beside him and quickly popped them open. He scowled. Neither was functional. He settled down more comfortably against the wall and got to work. Using the screwdriver he dismantled the newest manipulator all the while humming a beat of four.

 

It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been; only a few parts were actually missing. He quickly rectified that using the second.

 

He discarded the leftover parts in a nearby bin and tucked his finished creation back in the pouch of his hoodie. He kept the sonic screwdriver firmly in hand. He'd mocked the Doctor for it before, but he had to admit it had come in handy. It might work as a weapon if he used it right.

 

When he stood up he scowled at the small patch of blood staining the gray stone he'd sat on. He scuffed it with his shoe, but he was sure anyone knowing what to look for would see it. That made hiding here a poor choice. The Master tugged his hood back up and slipped back out onto the street. He needed to get out of the city before they figured out where he was going.

 

The suns were setting as he walked, glinting off the glass walls like fire, and he felt all that had happened to him. His chest burned, and his back was cramping. Every step seemed to drag, and his eyes were falling shut. He knew his body needed rest.

 

He eyed an alley longingly, and without the drums compelling him forward it was hard to resist the temptation.

 

He took a step towards the shadow and he felt it. A rising wave of anger and hatred. It was faint; if his shields had been up he would have missed it, but it meant they were coming. The Master swore and pushed himself forward.

 

He reached the red fields as the suns dipped down below the horizon. Waist high grass spread out under the expansive sky, rippling gently in the wind, and all around them were snow capped mountains and the occasional cluster of trees decorated with silver leaves. He let his hands catch the grass as he walked as far as he could before he collapsed, curling in to a protective ball as he fell asleep. Above him the grass moved as though it had never been disturbed.

 

\---------

 

The Master awoke warm with the sun on his face. He rolled onto his back and watched the grass wave above him.

 

His body was a dull throb. He moved to sit up and settled back with a groan. It felt better to just lie there in the fragrant dirt, breathing in the comforting smells of his youth. The wind whipped around him keeping him cool while the black cloth of his hoodie absorbed the light of the twin suns. His eyes grew heavy, and he did not fight when they coaxed him back to sleep.

 

The Master jerked upright, a silent scream on his lips. There was one long uncertain minute, and then he recalled all that had happened. He breathed deep and tried to calm his racing hearts. When he felt he'd regained what little remained of his sanity he forced himself to his feet.

 

The twin suns were high in the sky as he set his sights on Mount Perdition and began walking. He knew where he was going; he'd only been there once, but he would never forget the untempered schism.

 

Though it had been centuries since he'd last seen this land, the walk was easy and familiar. He'd distanced himself from the pain in his body with thoughts of Theta Sigma and how clever they'd thought they were as children. Their plots seemed so innocent now. They'd thought they were so adventurous, drinking in the Capitol while their classmates studied. If only they'd known what the future held. The Master closed his eyes and let his distraction carry him.

 

The Master opened his eyes at the base of the mountain. The air was frigid; the suns had been down for a long time. He hadn't realized how long he'd been walking. He was close.

 

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when he found the schism. The Master stared at it in fascination. It was beautiful; he'd never really appreciated it as a child.

 

He walked closer, his steps hesitant.

 

He remembered his initiation as an incredibly painful experience, and of course there was the drums... his mind itched with curiosity and fear. Would they come back? To help distract himself, the Master pulled out the vortex manipulator and strapped it high. It rested against the cuff uncomfortably.

 

He took a deep breath. It was time. Time to see if he was as smart as he thought he was.

 

He typed in the only coordinates he could think of. He didn't quite remember where it would land him, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the center of a sun.

 

He walked up to the schism and he jumped.

 


	2. Torchwood Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master makes it to Earth and becomes a guest of Torchwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not consider this a Torcwood crossover, but there are some things you need to know about it for this chapter to make perfect sense. Remember Jack? You know Jack. Jack has his own team! And along the way some of them die, so now he has two people, Ianto and Gwen. They work in an underground base in Cardiff keeping the alien threat to Earth quiet and contained. I'm pretty sure that's all you need to know.

The Master wasn't sure how long he would survive in the void without the proper vehicle, and he wasn't sure how far away he needed to be to escape the time locks hold. He just had to hold out as long as possible and trust that his luck would save him again.

 

The void tore at him, trying to rip his limbs in all directions, and oh did it burn. His hearts stuttered in his chest and his eyes felt like they were about to burst. He felt his blood begin to boil, and then activated the vortex manipulator.

 

The Master was falling fast.

 

He twisted around and watched the ground race up to meet him, though it was far enough that the continent beneath him still still lacked a lot of definition. He wasn't particularly worried yet.

 

Earth. Why was it always Earth? He hated this hunk of rock. He despised the apes that inhabited it, and yet he was always drawn back.

 

He turned away, dragging his arm into view. He did some quick math and typed in a new set of coordinates; hopefully ones closer to the ground.

 

Buildings were flying past. He reached for the manipulator, but slammed into the ground before he could recalibrate.

 

People were running screaming, but the Master didn't particularly care; apes seemed to run screaming whenever he was involved.

 

The Master tried to get an arm under himself and worked to prop himself up. He fell back with a hiss. Or lying down. Lying down was good too. He felt energy generating inside him; after being tortured for what felt like decades, his romp through the void, and his impromptu swan dive it was all he could do to keep from regenerating.

 

He opened his eyes and rolled his head back taking in his surroundings. People had stopped running, and were starting to gather closer in a rough circle, murmuring in worried tones.

 

The Master groaned. Goddamned apes. It was bearable with his shields in place, but with them shattered the press of their minds itched.

 

Some of the braver ones drew nearer; a woman dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands brushed the collar uncertainly, and then  two fingers pressed to his throat.

 

The Master waved her away irritably and tried to pushed himself up again and failed. The effort left him panting. The woman shushed him and ran a hand through his hair. She might have said something else, but her voice was lost amongst the ringing in his ears and the loud buzz of the silence in his mind. The Master wanted to brush her off again, but he was finding it harder to move, and his vision was beginning to darken around the edges. In the distance he could hear sirens.

 

It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. The woman started tapping his face.

 

There was a disturbance at the back of the crowd around him, and then the apes were parting. The Master could see a black SUV, and the furious face of Captain Jack Harkness striding through. The Master hid his confusion behind a glare and took a deep breath. Cardiff? First Earth, now Cardiff? His day just kept getting better.

 

The Captain stood over him fuming, his hands bracketed on his waist in the classic Superman pose. He looked rather ridiculous from where the Master lay.

 

He didn't want to deal with this. He was too tired. The Master closed his eyes and let unconsciousness claim him.

 

He woke up stiff and cold on the brick floor of what, upon further examination, turned out to be a small cell with some plexiglass or plastic wall leading out to a narrow poorly lit hallway. He found he still couldn't stand, but he managed to drag himself over to the lone wooden bench in the room and drag himself up on it. There wasn't a blanket or a pillow; the Master wrapped his arms around himself, curled up in a ball and went back to sleep.

 

\----------

 

Ianto and Gwen watched the computer displays. They all were focused on the cell of the man Jack had dragged in. He'd stayed sprawled where Jack had all but thrown him for almost four hours before he moved off the floor. He hadn't moved since. They split their attention between watching the man sleep, and eying the door to Jack's office. They could still hear the sound of him throwing things against the walls.

 

“What is he?” Gwen whispered.

 

Ianto shrugged.

 

“Jack seems to know.”

 

Ianto nodded.

 

They stood in silence until the door opened and Jack joined them. Gwen looked at him expectantly. Jack did a good job ignoring her. “What did he do?” She finally asked.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Do?”

 

She nodded to the feed of the cell. “From what I can see he crash landed. He's lucky to be alive. You're treating him like... like some kind of villain.”

 

Jack's smile hardened. “Just keep an eye on him.” He spun on his heel and closed the door of his office firmly behind him.

 

“Informative.” Ianto remarked. Gwen smiled grimly, and they turned back to the monitor.

 

Back in his office Jack considered breaking the monitor that showed the video feed of the Master's cell. His eyes landed on the broken shards of glass littering his floor and he reconsidered. He looked at his phone and hesitated. He knew what he _should_ do, but he wasn't sure if it was the _right_ thing to do. He didn't want the Doctor to get hurt again, and the man seemed to have a slight blind spot where this monster was concerned.

 

Decision made, Jack settled back in his chair and watched the Master.

 

\---------- 

 

The Master woke with a gasp, staggered to his feet, and collapsed against the far wall.

 

He didn't recognize the room, but he knew he was alone. For a moment he allowed himself to relax.

 

Everything hurt. His back was a dull throb and when he moved every cut pulled. He pressed a hand to his chest and focused on his breathing. When he felt he had some measure of control on the pain he had to contend with the silence. He still wasn't used to it. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be. He couldn't stand being in his own mind.

 

To distract himself he reached out.

 

He found Weevils and smiled. He settled back down on his bench and let his mind drift back to sleep to the sound of howling.

 

When he woke up his temporal sense told him roughly 48 hours had passed.

 

The pain was back, and this time stronger. The Master pressed his hand to his chest again, but this time his coping methods weren't working, and the fabric of his shirt was making his skin crawl. The Master tried not to move frantically as he tore off his hoodie. Instantly his arms felt better. He tugged at his shirt next, but it was stuck to his skin in too many places.

 

The Master sighed. He'd liked that shirt and there was no saving it.

 

A woman gently cleared her throat. The Master glanced up.

 

On the other side of the plexiglass wall a small dark haired woman watched him with wide eyes.

 

The Master matched her stare. She seemed unaffected and for a moment the Master felt a little impressed.

 

“Hello. My name is Gwen.”

 

“So?”

 

She held up a first aid kit, and the disdain that had colored the Master's features gave way to curiosity.

 

She moved to unlock the door.

 

“Stop!”

 

The Master's face closed off as Jack came charging in, gun drawn. “Don't touch that door!”

 

Gwen gestured to the cage. “He needs a first aid kit, Jack.”

 

“Well, Captain?” The Master drawled with a smirk. “Going to give me a needle to play with?”

 

Jack slammed a fist on the plexiglass, his face dark with fury. The Master grinned. The Captain was an easy man to manipulate. “It's okay, sweetheart. I heal fast.” The Master winked at Gwen and balled up his hoodie, using it as a pillow as he lay back down.

 

Jack stood toe to toe with the plexiglass of the cage door. “He deserves this. He deserves every minute.”

Gwen watched him nervously. “Why?”

 

Jack forced a smile. “How many times did you kill me that year? 375, right?”

 

The Master hummed. “It was closer to 430, wasn't it?” He grinned brightly. “You certainly are fun to kill, Jack.”

 

“One day I hope to return the favor.”

 

The Master laughed. It was full and dark, echoing through cell and the walls beyond. The Weevils howled with him.

 

Jack gently lead Gwen out.

 

The Master closed his eyes and readjusted on the bench. He wondered what Jack would tell Gwen about the Year-That-Wasn't. He wondered if Jack even remembered the coming of Gallifrey. Would Gwen be so trusting then?

 

Hours later he felt Torchwood empty until he was alone with Jack. The Master remained on the bench with his eyes firmly shut. What would the good Captain do now? The Master waited, but eventually Jack left too.

 

Finally alone, the Master relaxed boneless into the bench. He needed to figure out a way out of the cell. As his mind floated away from his body, the answer came to him. Easy. Simple. Obvious.

 

Master drifted back to sleep with a smile on his face.

 

\----------

 

The Master woke up with a jerk and nearly fell off the bench. The adrenaline wore off in seconds, and he settled back against the worn wood, exhausted. He swore at the mental presence of an ape who'd just entered Torchwood and woken him up.

 

The Master sighed and flexed his mind. Ianto. He closed his eyes and felt the human go through his morning routine of making coffee and doing paperwork. The Master paid close attention as he made his way down into the subbasement.

 

A few hours later Jack arrived. He kissed Ianto, much to the Master's complete lack of surprise, and then moved into his office. The Master quickly lost interest. He didn't want to watch the Captain watch him.

 

Gwen arrived last. She followed the same pattern as Ianto. He watched the pulse of her mind for a few moments before again losing interest.

 

The morning was quiet and lazy, and the Master felt himself drifting back to sleep. He had almost managed it when his eyes snapped open. Something in the air had changed.

 

He held his breath and tried to analyze what was currently in his lungs. It was hard to place. He'd never encountered it before.

 

The Master allowed a little to enter his system.

 

Ah. A sedative. The Master turned to the camera and frowned at Jack.

 

He considered holding his breath as long as he could, but in the end no matter how long he held out he would need to breathe, and Jack would win. There really wasn't a point in fighting it. The Master lay back down, folded his arms behind his head, and breathed deep.

 

Within minutes his eyes slid shut.

 

The Master felt like he was floating. The world was a bright white blur filled with distant voices.

 

“ _Hurry up and secure his arms.”_

 

“ _I'm trying, but these things are in the way.”_

 

“ _Should we cut them off?”_

 

“ _There isn't enough time. I don't care how you do it, just secure him.”_

 

The Master hummed along to the cadence of the voices and let himself enjoy the feeling. He hadn't been high since the 70s. Drugging a Time Lord was notoriously difficult, especially for any extended period of time. It was so much work to get inebriated that the Master had given up on it; it was just pathetic to have to convince your body to get drunk. He wondered how Jack had managed it so well on the first try. The white world he was in twisted to show him the vague outlines of Jack standing over the Doctor with a needle trying to figure out the numbers. The thought depressed him and the Master forced himself to stop thinking about it. His world became void once more. Around him the voices became more distinct.

 

“ _I told you we used too much.”_

 

“ _Keep an eye on those vitals.”_

 

“ _Is he still breathing?”_

 

“ _Wake him up.”_

 

The white void was suddenly shadowed, and Jack's face swam into focus. His voice sounded far away, and the Master didn't honestly care enough to try to work it out. He let the bastard drug him, but that doesn't mean he planned on being helpful.

 

Pain laced down his side. The Master arched away, his world focusing. Jack removed his fingers, and a quick mental check told him that Jack hadn't inflicted a new injury, he'd merely opened an old one.

 

The Master smirked. “Coward.”

 

Jack applied pressure again, and this time the Master refused to move away. Jack's expression didn't change as he moved his hands across the Master's chest, digging into each wound and pulling them open.

 

The Master refused to make a sound. He grit his teeth and smiled through it. “Not bad. Go grab some salt and we'll have some real fun.”

 

“Jack, stop!” Gwen latched onto Jack's arm and pulled him back. Jack turned away panting harshly, his hands stained red.

 

The Master wasn't floating anymore. The world stood out in stark definition. He was strapped to a metal table in an enclosed brick room with restraints across his chest, forearms, and ankles. He was freezing. The Master stretched as far as he could against his restraints and looked down his body. His hoodie, shirt, and shoes were missing, though he was still wearing his trousers.

 

Jack had returned and watched him, arms crossed. He'd rolled up his blood stained sleeves.

 

The Master settled back. “I'm surprised you restrained yourself.”

 

Jack smirked. “There's time yet. Don't worry, I know what to do with scum like you.” He jammed his fingers back into the large gash in his side and pushed inward as firmly as he could. “What were you planning?”

 

The Master held back his scream, but he couldn't stop his body arching against his restraints. Now that his body was aware of the pain he was having a hard time blocking it. For a moment he considered doing the same thing he'd done with the Chief and retreat into his mind, a place where the great Captain would be unable to follow. But that meant leaving his body alone with Jack, and that seemed like a really bad idea. He closed his eyes and tried to encourage his nerves to  shut down.

 

Jack withdrew his hand and paced around the table, his eyes never straying far from the Master's chest. “I see someone had the right idea about what to do with you. I should send them flowers.”

 

The Master shifted. “I doubt they'd be appreciated.”

 

“It's the thought that counts.” Jack leaned in close. “Now tell me, w _hat were you planning_?”

 

The Master couldn't stop the smile that crossed his face. The question was so absurd after everything that happened. A chuckle slipped past, and then another, and soon he was laughing harder than he ever had. It pulled horribly at the wounds over his ribs, but it was worth it for the look on Jack's face, even after he crammed his fingers into the Master's side again. In the Master's mind he envisioned them slicking the table a dark red, and he laughed all the more. A plan? Who was he kidding. He laughed at Jack's furious expression, at the horror on Gwen and Ianto's faces, at the blood staining Jack's arms and white shirt. And as he laughed, Jack attacked.

 

When Jack had done all he could without actually inflicting his own marks, he fell back with guilt painting his face and mind. He clearly hadn't meant to go so far.

 

The Master's grin stretched across his face. “What would your dear Doctor say if he could see you now?”

 

“Drug him,” Jack growled.

 

“I can't give him any more,” Ianto said softly. “Without knowing how his metabolism works it could kill him.”

 

The Master laughed again. “So you're going to kill me, Jack? That's a step in the right direction I suppose, but you'd better work hard, 'cause you're going to have to _earn_ it.”

 

Jack's lips pulled back in a snarl and he swung around to face Ianto. “Just do it!”

 

Ianto looked at the Master with wide eyes, then the Master felt a needle in his arms.

 

Whatever was in the needle was clearly more potent than the gas in the room, though without the sedative effect. He was instantly adrift in the white void that he logically knew was caused by the bright lights above him, but that felt like clouds. The Master was actually rather impressed with whatever this was. Even the pain was fading to nothing.

 

“ _His heart rate is dropping, Jack._ ”

 

“ _This isn't right and you know it! It doesn't matter what he's done, if you throw away your morality how are you any better?_ ”

 

The Master groaned at that. Fucking morality. If he had to listen to one more lecture on right and wrong he was going to... do something. Probably. If he felt like it. Depending on who it was. Burning down whatever city he was in would be a fun start. Then they could talk the morality of choosing to save the people or the buildings. Or which people, or which buildings. That'd be fun. Maybe the Doctor would come. But no, the Doctor probably wouldn't like that. He had something against things dying. But dinner would be nice. They could talk about it over dinner. With a candle. That could simulate a burning city. And then they could talk about the difference between a human dying and whatever animal they were eating. Maybe he could trick the Doctor into becoming a vegetarian...

 

There was a gray shape in his white void. Something that vaguely looked like Jack's face pulled into focus. There was a faint echo that suggested questions were being asked. Considering the fun they'd just had the Master could guess what those questions were. He expected pain when he didn't answer, but instead the noise repeated itself. Gradually the echo became louder until the Master could make out what was being asked.

 

“What's your favorite activity?”

 

An odd question. “Building things.” His answer rattled around in his head. The Master wasn't sure if he'd actually said it, or if he'd just thought it, but he was fairly certain he didn't slur when he thought. He was still trying to figure it out when his mouth moved of its own accord. “I've always loved building things. Even small things. Things without purpose. What you create can never turn on you, _well_ , unless you build something sentient, but then you're on your own. A screwdriver though. A screwdriver can never betray you. Or an engine, or....” The Master paused. Something in his mind clicked. “Oh, Jack, you clever boy. You think you're clever? Pity, pity, pity. I'll show you what clever is before we're done, just you watch me.”

 

Jack smiled kindly. “What were you planning? What was your goal?”

 

“You know I find it really funny that you keep asking in the past tense, what _was_ I planning. If I'm planning aren't I still planning? What part of your role keeps me from it, or are you so certain of yourself to assume you're safe with me here?” The Master lifted his body up off the table as far as he could and slammed back down. His eyes swung around and he found the vague shape that he believed to be Ianto. Even with the drug in his system and the distance between them, the Master could tell he was trying to look inconspicuous. “What'd you give me, doc? It's fantastic.”

 

Jack grabbed the Master's chin and forced his eyes back, but the Master just laughed. “Didja really think it was going to be that easy, Jack? Really? That even with this...inhibition inhibitor you seem to have pumped me full of I'd just give into you? I thought you knew me better than that Jack.”

 

Jack shoved the Master's head back hard, a loud thunk resonating through the metal. “Give him more.”

 

Ianto shook his head and backed up a step. “He's already had too much, Jack. This is a bad idea.”

 

“All ideas are bad ideas, my dear Ianto. Or hasn't Jack taught you that? The goal here is not to figure out what I'm doing or up to or off to or with who,” the Master giggled, “the goal is to make me suffer, isn't it Jack? Do you think that you'll feel better about yourself if I've suffered? And does this even count as suffering? You really need to work harder at this whole 'bad guy' thing. I've seen kids do better, and I'm talking human kids, not Time Lord kids, and _that_ is saying something.”

 

Jack strode forward and grabbed the needle and a prepared a dose. Ianto grabbed his wrist. Jack shrugged him off. “He's close. This'll do it.” He plunged the needle into the Master's arm.

 

The void doesn't change in appearance, but the silence was now all encompassing, buzzing so loudly that the Master could hear nothing else. It pulsed in his head, thudding against his ear drums, and for a minute the Master could pretend the drums were back, and despite his fear his mind relaxed to it. They were familiar. In the background he could vaguely feel his body arch of the table and thrash against his bonds, he could feel himself smiling so widely his cheeks hurt, and he was sure he was making some sound. He must be, or else they were. Behind it machines were screaming, and it felt like the restraints had all tightened and were slowly winding up the length of his arms like they'd acquired minds of their own and were dragging him away to be eaten later. He wondered if he'd still be alive when they bit into him, or if the collar would have suffocated him by then. Already it was getting harder and harder to draw a breath. The swirls of gray in his otherwise white world vanished, and now a deep black curled around the edges. He watched with wide eyes as the two colors fought each other until they combined in an explosion that knocked him from the void, and forced his mind to shut down.

 

The Master woke up slowly, shivering in the cold frigid air of the cell they'd been keeping him in.

 

Every joint felt stiff, his body felt like a large scab, and his throat felt raw, like he'd been doing a lot of screaming. He longed for a sink to wash up in, but the cell was bare.

 

The Master's head was pounding, and he had to sit up carefully to avoid the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him. He'd considered finding out what the drug had been, but he vowed never again. The hangover was not worth the gratification.

 

When he felt he could open his eyes without the light blinding him he made out a dark shape on the floor. It took him a few minutes to make out his familiar hoodie. From what he'd learned so far about his captors, he figured Gwen must have been the one who left it. His shirt was gone, but it was something.

 

He gradually found his feet, and tugged it over his head. It stuck to his body in a few places, but he felt warmer.

 

The Master sat back down and reflected on what he could remember of the night before. It was foggy, and a little muddled, but he thought he had the full story. He spent his morning wondering what Jack would have done with out the Chief's help. If the man would have had the stomach for actual torture.

 

Above him the Torchwood employees went about their day.

 

The Master waited patiently.

 

Today was the day. Much as he'd enjoyed Torchwood hospitality, it was time to make his escape.

 

Torchwood emptied far sooner than the Master expected. There was a flurry of activity and then everyone rushed topside.

 

The Master settled back and relaxed. This would require all of his attention, and he didn't want forget he was sitting and fall off the bench. It had never happened before, but in his weakened state he didn't want to leave anything to chance. His mind reached out and started trailing the apes going about their day to day. Anyone would do, but the Master was looking for a few specifics.

 

It was almost an hour before the Master found him. Medium build, short brown hair, an innocence about his mind... yes, this one would do. The fact that Jack was sure to find him attractive was just an amusing bonus.

 

The Master slipped into his mind easily and took over the controls without interrupting the flow of the man's movements. This kind of manipulation took skill, and the Master considered himself an artist.

 

The man approached the main entrance for the Torchwood facilities and entered without causing any suspicion, and then used what the Master had observed of Ianto and Gwen to work his way down without setting off any alarms. Soon he stood outside the Master's cell.

 

“Nice of you to take the time out of your day.” The Master watched himself smirk.

 

“Always a pleasure.” The man replied in subdued tones.

 

“Open the door.”

 

The man fumbled with the controls, but the Master had never actually seen the door unlocked before, so he was really just speculating. This was Earth technology though, and really not even advanced Earth technology. It took only a few minutes to work out. The Master smiled for the camera and headed out.

 

He made it a few steps before pausing beside the next cage and eying the Weevil that had howled with him. His gut was telling him to release it. It was habit. It was what someone would expect him to do. The only thing was, at the moment it wasn't something he wanted to do. He looked up and found the mans vacant eyes watching him, hand poised over the control that would open the door. It would only take a second.

 

But he didn't want to. This way was simpler. Quieter. 

 

The Master no longer felt invigorated by his escape. He felt empty. He walked wordlessly out the door, the man trailing behind him.

 

Once they were up, the Master sent the man a suggestion to go home and sleep. The man walked away, slightly more aware than he had been, but still obeying the Master's word.

 

The Master tugged up his hood, picked a direction and started walking. Despite all the sleeping he'd been doing lately he was still tired. He lacked the drive to move on. His mind told him that if he was himself right now he'd be stealing a car, lifting a wallet and finding some mischief to take part in, but that all sounded like too much effort. All he wanted to do was get as far away from Jack as possible. He had no idea where he was going or what he'd do when he got there, but at the moment it was enough.

 

\----------

 

The mission couldn't have come at a worse time. Jack didn't want to make a run into the country, but when people started calling about purple pus leaking from trees, and flesh eating butterflies he had to take the call.

 

The drive out was miserable. He could feel the disappointment rolling off Gwen in waves, and even Ianto wouldn't meet his eyes in the rear view mirror.

 

“I did what I had to do.” He muttered.   
“I'm sorry, Jack, what was that?” Gwen asked.

 

“I did what I had to do!”

 

“And that was what? Torture? Is that what Torchwood does now, we torture?”

 

“In this particular case, yes!”

 

“Why, Jack?”

 

Jack shifted in his seat. “Because he's dangerous.”

 

“I get that you feel that way, but what did he do? I know you said he killed you but... I hate to say this, Jack, but, you can't die.”

 

“So that means I deserve to be killed? Not dying doesn't take away the pain of death.”

 

“I know, Jack, and I don't mean to be offensive, but... what's the real reason you're reacting like this?”

 

“Talk to Martha Jones about it.” He cranked up the radio, drowning out everything else. Jack tried not to feel disappointed when Ianto looked out the window.

 

The case went smoothly all things considered. The butterflies were attracted to the pus, so capturing them was easy, and afterward they discovered a local custom pesticide made out of star fragments was causing the pus to form. Easily fixed.

 

Jack should have known that wasn't the end of it.

 

He could tell something was off the moment he stepped below. Something was wrong.

 

He checked the video feed and saw the Master's empty cell. He sprinted for the cell block, initiating a lock down.

 

He was gone. How could he be gone? No one had been there! He was secure! Jack stormed back to the main council. “How did he do it?”

 

Gwen was already in front of the computer. She rewound the footage and paused it when another man showed up on the screen.

 

“Who is he?”

 

Ianto stood at another screen. “Running that now.”

 

Gwen backed the footage up further, and they watched him flawlessly make his way down, passing every security check without a seconds pause.

 

“How did he break into the system?” Jack growled.

 

“Found him, sir.”

 

Jack moved to stand behind Ianto.

 

“Investment banker. Greg Sanderson. 35 years old. Married. Four children.”

 

“Run any connections with Harold Saxon, or any involvement with the Prime Minister's offices.”

 

Ianto wordlessly searched.

 

“Gwen, CCTV, see if you can get a lock on where he is.”

 

“So he's connected to Harold Saxon, then?” Gwen's fingers flew across the keyboard. “Wasn't that... the Minister who went crazy a few years ago?”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said softly, “that'd be him. Any hits yet?”

 

“No, sir.” Ianto said dutifully.

 

“Keep running.”

 

“He _is_ Saxon?”

 

“Yep. He killed a whole bunch of people, took me and... a friend hostage and tortured us for a year. Martha's the one who saved us, and by us I mean everyone. She's the one who defeated him. I thought he was dead.”

 

“What do you mean a _year_ , Jack? I think we'd remember a year!”

 

“Nah, that was the fun bit. The year never happened. Martha and I remember it because we were there when the clock reset. No one else really gets it... Still nothing?”

 

Ianto pulled away from the computer. “If he has any ties, Jack, I can't find them.”

 

“Gwen?”

 

“I've got him here right when he comes out up top. Sanderson heads east, and Saxon heads south. I'm afraid I lost him after that, Jack. He walks off camera and into a crowd. I can't make out which one he is.”

 

“Then I've got no choice.” Jack said, stepping away from the screens. “I've got to call him.”

 

“Call who?”

 

“My friend. The Doctor.”

 

Jack retreated to his office and pulled out his cell phone.

 

The Doctor answered on the fourth ring. “Hello, who's this?”

 

“Doctor. It's Jack.”

 

“Ah, Jack! Wonderful to hear from you, but I'm afraid I've got a lovely view at the moment and I don't want to spoil it, call back another time. Yes? Yes. Bye now!”

 

“It's about the Master.”

 

There was silence on the other end of the line.

 

“He's back. I tried to keep him contained but –”

 

“What have you done to him? How long have you had him? _Why didn't you tell me_?”

 

Jack straightened in his chair. “Torchwood is designed to keep alien threats at bay. The Master has already made it clear that as far as threats to Earth concern he is a big one. It was best to keep him here, locked up somewhere safe so we could keep an eye on him.” Jack's eyes tracked to the still bloodied operating table in the next room.

 

“Torchwood could never hope to hold _me_ , how could you possibly think it could hold _him_?”

 

“I recognize that now, Doctor, but the situation has escalated and we need your help. He's... gotten out.”

 

There was silence on the other end of the line. Jack glanced at the phone to ensure the connection hadn't been broken.

 

“When are you?”

 

Jack glanced at the clock and gave the Doctor a time that was roughly an hour off. He disconnected the call and got to work cleaning up. It was really the Master's fault he'd gone that far at all, but he doubted the Doctor would see it that way. 

 

\----------

 

The Doctor arrived at the exact time Jack had specified.

 

Gwen and Ianto both eyed the TARDIS curiously, but they'd both seen enough in their time with Jack that nothing really phased them.

 

The door slammed open and the Doctor came storming out. Gwen caught sight of a huge interior before the door swung shut again. “Show me the footage, Jack.”

 

“Doctor, there really isn't time for that. We need to find him _now_ before he does something we'll have to work hard to fix.”

 

The Doctor had a much younger face than Jack had remembered seeing, but when his expression hardened Jack saw his friend beneath it. “If you want to save time do as I ask, Jack. We're not doing anything else until I've seen everything.”

 

Without waiting for Jack's signal, Gwen accessed the computer and brought up the recorded feed of the Master's cell, starting with Jack tossing the Master in and the Master pulling himself off the floor. She began to fast forward through the Master curled on the bench, unmoving for days until the new man arrived to let him out.

 

The Doctor moved closer to the screen, glaring at the footage. It was doctored, doctored well, but still noticeable to his practiced eye. The Doctor's fingers itched to pull out his screwdriver and force the computer to show him the truth, but he waited.

 

Once the Master had exited Jack crossed his arms and Gwen switched screens. “Yesterday we got called out on a job. When we got back, as you saw, he was gone. Guy who let him out has no connection with Harold Saxon, professionally or otherwise –”

 

“He didn't know the Master.”

 

Gwen frowned. “Then why'd he break him out?” 

 

“Time Lords are very good at mental manipulation. It comes with being very clever telepaths. Most are good to varying degrees; we call keep in touch mentally and so forth, but the Master in particular was always very good at it.”

 

“So mind control?” Jack asked.

 

“More like suggestion. He most likely grabbed an opportunity. I doubt your man even remembers doing it.”

 

“Great,” Jack snarled. “That psychopath can do that. Fucking awesome. We need him contained, Doctor. What can we do?”

 

The Doctor wheeled on Jack. His face was contorted in fury. He looked angrier than Jack ever remembered seeing him, even against the Daleks. He took an involuntary step back. “And what do you plan on doing with him, Captain? Keep him unconscious? Hold him in a cell for the rest of his very long life? Kill him? Experiment on him?”

 

“You saw what he did last time! He can't be allowed to run free! Remember what he did to you? To me? You can't trust him!”

 

“I can't trust him?” The Doctor studied Jack for a moment, and then spun around to the monitor.

 

“Wait!”

 

The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out from his coat pocket and ran it along the monitors screen until he found what he wanted. The footage covered all the monitors, and it jumped and jerked as it backed up. Then they all watched as the cell filled with a white gas.

 

The room was silent. The Doctor's face was still.

 

He moved his sonic again, and they watched as the Master was moved and strapped to the surgery table. They watched as Jack made him bleed. He watched the Master's face as he held out, reading the subtle twitches for the cries that they were.

 

The stillness made him more terrifying than yelling or raving ever could.

 

The Doctor watched the footage all the way to the end, and then turned and strode to the TARDIS.

 

Jack's eyes stayed on the screen. “He made me do it. If he had just cooperated...”

 

“Goodbye, Jack.”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To find the Master.”

 

“And what are you going to do with him?”

 

The Doctor shut the door to the TARDIS firmly. There was a whirring, and the machine faded from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned on having a friend read this to make sure my Torchwood was accurate as I haven't viewed all of it... She's been too busy to have a look so this is going up without her insights. 
> 
> I happen to love Jack. He's one of my fav characters, however... I don't think Jack would behave very well when faced with the threat of the Master...


	3. The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor finds the Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for an emotional rollercoaster.

Once the Master left the city he closed his eyes and let his feet carry him. He didn't need to see where he was going. Whenever he did open his eyes it was just long enough to see a lone house pass, or a tree, once even a cat. He didn't care. He spent his time projecting disinterest and avoiding people whenever he could. This quickly lead him off the beaten path, through clusters of trees and across open fields.

 

In his mind he was back on Gallifrey, in the time before the war, in the time when he could believe he was happy. His fingers trailed in red grass.

 

When he opened his eyes water spread out before him. Grass still stuck out in small batches, but only steps away sand took over and spread out in all directions, stopping only where waves lapped at it.

 

The Master stumbled forward the last few steps and fell to his knees. The sound of the waves was soothing, and he felt no motivation to get up, no urge to keep going.

 

He sat back on his heels and watched the water, his eyes slowly drifting shut.

 

Someone touched him.

 

The Master lurched back and struggled to get away, his legs tangled up beneath him.

 

“Hush, Master.” The Doctor's calming voice soothed his racing hearts. “It's alright, it's just me.”

 

The Master looked at him with distrust. His mind was still a little fuzzy from the drug. He couldn't tell if this was the real Doctor or another projection. What if it was all a projection? Everything, even Jack? What if he was still in the Chief's cell?

 

He glanced up at the Doctor trying to work out any clues from his face. The Doctor looked worried. He held his hands up in the classic unarmed display and slowly inched closer. If it was a deception it was perfect.

 

The Master glared. It was exhausting just thinking in these circles. He gave up. He was done running. He closed his eyes and turned away. “You're not real.”

 

Minutes passed. The only sound was the rushing of the waves. 

 

The Master opened his eyes and looked. The Doctor's face was heart broken, his hand frozen halfway between them.

 

“Well?” The Master grumbled.

 

The Doctor leaned forward and the Master couldn't help the violent flinch, but instead of touching him, the Doctor's fingers brushed the collar. The Master couldn't hide his surprise. Slowly, careful not to startle him, the Doctor's fingers caressed the skin above it where some bruising was rather obvious. The Master swallowed, blinking rapidly. He fought the urge to lean into the Doctor's touch.

 

“What happened to you?” The Doctor whispered.

 

“Seriously? What _happened_?” The Master giggled. It dissolved into all out laughter that quickly took a rather hysterical edge. When he could breathe again he found himself cradled to the Doctor's chest. The Doctor rocked him gently whispering words in Gallifreyan. The Master relaxed bonelessly into his arms, his eyes half closed.

 

“Master?” The Doctor's frown deepened. He shook the Master and received no response.

 

Without giving the Master a chance to protest the Doctor raised him from the ground and made for the TARDIS.

 

The Master curled a hand in the Doctor's coat and let the world fall away.

 

\---------

 

The Master woke up feeling rejuvenated. It was a weird feeling. He normally woke up feeling like he'd run a mile and was only steps away from falling into the abyss. Considering he was waking up in an unfamiliar room, he felt oddly safe.

 

His nose twitched uncomfortably and he noticed a plastic tube wrapped around his face. He reached to remove it and felt a tug in his left arm. It felt like a needle, but he was fairly certain it wasn't. Leaving a needle in place long term wasn't generally common practice. Tubing stretched out from it and was taped to his arm and then looped away to a hanging plastic bag filled about half way with a clear liquid.

 

The Master's right hand responded slowly to his commands, but he was eventually able to drag it across his stomach. It was gently trapped between two warm hands. “Just fluids, Master.”

 

The Master looked up at the man standing over him. He blinked and the mans face pulled into focus. He didn't recognize him, but the press of his mind was far too familiar. He tried to say the mans name, but only vague sounds came out. The Doctor smiled all the same and pressed an ice chip to his lips.

 

The Master sucked on it and settled back. He cleared his throat. It took him a few tries, but eventually he was able to speak. “Why?”

 

“Why?”

 

The Master glared. “Why am I here?”

 

The Doctor's grin was muted but present. He brushed a strand of hair off the Master's forehead. “You fell asleep on me. Did you expect me to leave you on that beach?”

 

The Master bit his tongue to refrain from saying anything that would reveal anything too personal. Something that would force the Doctor to withdraw his hand.

 

The Doctor noticed and nudged at his chin until he stopped. “Don't hurt yourself.”

 

The Master scowled. The Doctor chuckled and ran his fingers through the Master's hair. The Master unconsciously pushed into it.

 

“I've gotten you mostly taken care of.” The Doctor said.

 

“Hm?” The Master mused, turning his head to encourage the Doctor to rub behind his ears.

 

“Bandaged up. You've had quite the adventure without me.”

 

The Master flexed, arching off the bed. He felt tight bandages around his ribs and a few across his stomach and arms.

 

The Doctor pressed a hand to his shoulder and guided him back down.

 

The Master allowed himself to relax into it. The Doctor's hand remained a solid presence between his beating hearts.

 

The Master was a little ashamed at how calming he found it.

 

“I need to do the cuffs next.”

 

The Master sighed. “No.”

 

“You plan on spending the rest of your life with them?”

 

“Could be a new fashion trend.”

 

The Doctor pushed lightly against the chaffed flesh around the Master's wrists. “A painful one.”

 

“A little pain is good for the soul, isn't it?”

 

The Doctor's hands paused. “I think you've had enough.”

 

There was a tightness in the Master's chest. He tried to shift away. It was depressingly easy for the Doctor to pull him back. “You deserve better, don't you think?”

 

“Enough,” the Master growled.

 

“You deserve to live a life away from people who want to hurt you.”

  
“This isn't funny, Doctor.”

 

“You should be with someone who loves you. Who can take care of you.”

 

“Stop it!”

 

The Doctor obediently closed his mouth. He didn't remove his hands from where they were rested and the Master didn't ask him to.

 

They sat in silence for as long as the Master could bear it, his eyes looking everywhere but the Doctor. “So what's the plan then?” He peaked at the Doctor from under his eye lashes. The Doctor was watching him with an unreadable expression.

 

He rubbed his thumb against the base of the Master's skull. “I'll give you something for the pain.”

 

The Master scowled. “No.”

 

“You know about these restraints, Master. They were designed by some pretty devious minds.”

 

The Master grinned. “Minds like mine?”

 

The Doctor smiled back. “No. If you'd designed them we'd never get them off.”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

 

“I think I've got something here that'll work.” The Doctor spun away from the Master and was instantly in a whirl of activity.

 

The Master watched him discreetly from the corners of his eyes, making sure he was looking at the ceiling whenever the Doctor turned to look at him.

 

“It won't work.”

 

The Doctor stilled. “Jack managed it.”

 

“So you know about that.”

 

The Doctor forced himself to move again. “That's how I found you.”

 

“And here I thought I made a clean getaway.”

 

“You did, but I know you.” The Doctor pressed at the plastic clips in the tubing and injected something into the clear fluid. It took a few moments for him to feel it enter his system. “Let it work, Master.”

 

The Master felt that he should be difficult, but if the Doctor was serious about attempting the cuffs, he did not want to be awake for it. He focused, and felt the drug take effect.

 

The Doctor sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand down his flank. “Sometimes it's good to have a time machine.”

 

His words were starting to become indistinct, but the Master found their presence soothing.

 

“The TARDIS helped, of course. All things considered she was surprisingly cooperative. Maybe she forgives you. Or maybe she could just feel how desperate I was.”

 

The Master closed his eyes.

 

“We took off in the direction you headed in and tracked you. It took longer than I would have liked to locate you, but.. in the end I found you...”

 

There was heat and a soft buzzing in his head. The Master breathed out.

 

“...and that's all that matters.”

 

Peace. Quiet. Black. Without the drums sleep had become easier. He felt no drive to do anything but swim adrift in the dark. There was warmth, and he knew the Doctor was close, their minds pressed together so easily it was as though they'd been doing it all their lives.

 

There was a prickling sensation. It felt annoying. Not quite painful enough for him to give any serious thought, but present enough that he couldn't shake the feeling.

 

Then the world changed.

 

Pain. Burning. In his mind he saw himself strapped to a table, the Chief slowly dissecting his left hand, starting with his wrist. He closed himself to the image and tried to convince himself to absorb the drug more efficiently. It wasn't working. The image was too potent. The Chief had flayed the skin, and was working on removing each bone and placing it into the tray beside him.

 

The Master thrashed, but found he was unable to move. He bared his teeth and snarled. The Chief grinned and started work on his right. “I told you I'd take care of you.”

 

The Master bit his cheek until it bled. When the Chief moved on to his fingers the Master finally screamed.

 

He woke up to blindingly bright lights, bile rising in his throat, wrists restrained.

 

He struggled, pulling hard at his wrists in an effort to free them. Hands applied pressure on his shoulders, and while he could hear calming words, he could still feel the Chief's knife.

 

He fought until he was too tired to move and then screwed his eyes shut in an effort to block out everything. Gradually the pain left. He could feel his body again. There were two hands on his face. The Master couldn't help the whimper that escaped his throat.

 

“I know, I know, it's over.” The Doctor murmured.

 

The Master jerked away. “You're not real! Get off me!” He drew up his knees sharply and kicked at the Doctor's stomach.

 

The Doctor nimbly avoided the attacks, and leaned forward until he could press his forehead to the Master's. “I am. I'm real, Master. Come on, with a face this ridiculous who else could I be? Just relax, it's over. You're safe now.”

 

The Master's chest heaved, and while he still eyed the Doctor with distrust, he stopped fighting.

 

The Doctor's mind was every where. It was blanketed around his mind, and filled his thoughts with a soothing pressure. The Master pressed back and found the Doctor's mind spread before his, offering itself in a show of trust. A tension the Master hadn't been aware of relaxed. This was real. It was all real.

 

When the Master came back to himself, the Doctor smiled. “You see?”

 

The Master tried to look indifferent. “Shut it.”

 

The Doctor stopped talking, but his face was radiant.

 

The Master had to look away. He cleared his throat. “So is this some kink of yours, or are you going to untie me?”

 

“Right! Sorry! You started thrashing around a bit and I was worried you'd hurt yourself.”

 

Once he had the Master's arms free he went to work rubbing circulation back in. The Master winced and pulled away.

 

Each wrist had matching bruising, a deep shade that matched the exact size of the cuffs. They were surrounded by cuts on either side. The Doctor touched them questioningly. The Master shrugged. “You didn't expect me to struggle?”

 

His hands flitted up and pressed at the bruising around his abused throat. The Doctor watched him with a guarded expression. “You'll probably be drinking a lot of tea for a while.”

 

The Master scowled. “Cute.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

 

“With your Torchwood flunkies? I thought you said you knew,” the Master teased. He sobered up at the Doctor's expression. “Not much. Not the best accommodations, but certainly not the worst. Over all... four out of ten.”

 

“No. On Gallifrey.”

 

The Master's face closed off. “Nothing.”

 

“Master, they don't put these cuffs on for nothing.”

 

“I said nothing happened.”

 

“Please. I just want to help.”

 

“How does knowing help?”

 

“Please, Master.”

 

“I don't want to.”

 

The Doctor scowled. “Master.” He pushed forward, climbing up onto the bed until they were breathing the same air. The Master told himself to fight back, but he was surprisingly comfortable. “Let me see.”

 

The Master frowned, but it the Doctor had an uncanny ability to dig up information best kept buried. He was going to find out, the question was how much fighting he'd put up before hand. Letting him look though... that required no effort.

 

The Master closed his eyes and nodded.

 

There was a push and his consciousness drop down, the Doctor wrapped around him like a warm blanket, settling deep into his bones. The Master might have outwardly fought him, but in his mind there was nothing but the Doctor's pure essence, and the Master's mind welcomed it as it would the sun.

 

With the Doctor with him in his mind, there was no hiding it.

 

The Doctor didn't comment on it, instead he continued downward until they settled on what the Master considered to be his consciousness.

 

Once they were settled the Doctor extended a proper Time Lord greeting. The Master returned it. And then... nothing.

 

“Well?” The Master asked.

 

“When you're ready.”

 

“I'm not delicate!” The Master snapped.

 

“I don't think you are.”

 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

 

“Master... I can feel your pain from here.”

 

“I don't need to be coddled. If you're going to be like this, you can look around yourself,” the Master snarled. He turned and left the bright spot of the Doctor's mind and retreated further inward, heading for the one place he felt protected, the dome he'd created. With everything that had happened with Jack he had yet to take it down.

 

The figments greeted him with enthusiasm, and the Master tried to focus on them, not the other presence in his mind.

 

\----------

 

The Doctor let his smile drop once the Master left.

 

He always wanted to smile at his friend, especially when he was in pain, but truthfully he felt nothing but anger and fear. He'd actually been happy when the Master had stormed off. He wasn't sure he could look at the memories by his side. He didn't want the Master to have to relive it.

 

He continued to project a soothing warmth as he called up the memories. He checked one last time to make sure the Master wasn't going to follow him, and then stepped through.

 

When he emerged, he felt sick. He'd watched the memories twice, once watching what had happened to the Master's body, once watching what had happened to his mind.

 

Half of his mind wanted to hold the Master close. Never let go. The other half wanted to find a way to break into the time lock and make Gallifrey _burn_. At the moment he couldn't tell which urge was stronger.

 

The Doctor forced himself to calm down. He didn't want the Master to feel his anger.

 

Once he felt he had control over himself he replaced the Master's memories exactly where he found them and ventured further into the Master's mind. His projection of himself landed in a desolate plane of shattered glass pulsing with pain.

 

The Doctor pressed into it, soothing it as best he could. Then he flexed his mind and the glass disappeared.

 

Normally altering a Time Lords mindscape could be seen as an attack, but after all that he had seen he was fairly certain that his presence could never be seen as a threat. He flexed his mind again and started rebuilding the Master's shields.

 

While he worked he kept an eye on the Master. After everything he knew exactly where to find him.

 

\----------

 

The Master sat amongst his figments. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and the Doctors were politely letting him have his space.

 

He closed his eyes and tried to suppress his embarrassment. Letting the Doctor look had seemed like a good idea in the moment, but now he was recalling all the reasons he should have kept it secret. He'd basically given the Doctor a front row seat to his little crush, and now he didn't know how to explain it away. How do you justify being in love with... he didn't want to call the Doctor his enemy, but in essence that's what he was. No matter how he really felt, the Master had certainly tried to kill him and his pets often enough. There was no way the Doctor could see them as anything else. He only hoped the Doctor would let it be. Let him leave with his dignity intact. Tell him to keep his nose clean or something, and then they could work on avoiding each other.

 

“You're being silly.”

 

The Master looked up.

 

Theta stood over him with a pout on his face and his hands on his hips. “I've always loved you.”

 

The Master shook his head and looked away. “Thanks for trying, kid, but you're just parroting back what I want to hear. You're just a memory. A part of me. You think and feel what I want you to think and feel.”

 

Theta looked at him sadly and then pushed his way into the Master's lap and curled around him.

 

The Master wanted to push him away, but instead found himself holding the boy close.

 

“I really do, you know,” Theta whispered.

 

The Master sighed and pet the boy, watching the Doctor finish with his memories.

 

He'd watched more than the Master thought he would, going well past his escape from Torchwood, all the way to the beach. A small part of him regretted leaving the Doctor to watch the memories alone, unable to keep a close eye on his reactions. A larger part was happy he didn't have to see the disgust in person.

 

Once the Doctor was finished, the Master waited for him to leave.

 

He wasn't sure what to do when he didn't.

 

He gave it more time.

 

The Doctor remained.

 

The Master's curiosity finally got the best of him. He placed a kiss to Theta's forehead and pushed him gently aside.

 

He stepped outside the dome and froze. It was beautiful. His shields were back up, but they weren't really his shields, they were something else entirely. They were stunning. They weren't the only change. All around him the shattered glass was gone, and was replaced with waves of red grass.

 

He couldn't keep his eyes off it as he moved towards the Doctor.

 

The Doctor, when he found him, was busy enhancing the changes he'd made. The Master stopped to watch him work.

 

He was impressed. The Doctor could be truly brilliant when he put his mind to it.

 

The Doctor worked until his enhancements were finished, and then focused his attention on the Master.

 

The Master had been confident to that point. Now that he had the Doctor's full attention he felt uncomfortable. “You didn't have to do that.”

 

The Doctor shrugged. “No, but I wanted to. I hope these are stronger than what you had up.”

 

The Master scoffed automatically. It was the principle of the thing. “I had good shields.”

 

“Undoubtedly, but I hope these will serve you longer.”

 

The Master laughed, but his discomfort remained. He cleared his throat and looked away. “You can leave now,” he muttered.

 

“Hmm... don't want to.” The Doctor smiled brightly.

 

The Master crossed his arms. He wondered if the Doctor would leave if he demanded it. It wasn't that the Master _wanted_ him to go exactly, but he knew the Doctor was feeling nothing but pity for him, and it was making the Master's skin crawl.

 

If the Doctor noticed, he didn't say. “I see the drums are gone.”

 

The Master latched onto the distraction. “Indeed they are.”

 

“How do you like it?”

 

“It's... quiet.”

 

The Doctor shot him a worried look. “Too quiet?”

 

The Master took a few steps away and hunched in on himself.

 

The Doctor didn't let him go far. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around him. “It's okay to be afraid.”

 

The Master tried to shrug him off, but the Doctor held on tight. “I'm not afraid.”

 

“Master... you can't lie to me here.”

 

The Master began to struggle in earnest and the Doctor relented, letting him go. The Master turned to fight and stopped. The Doctor looked devastated. “I'm sorry.”

 

“What?”

 

The Doctor quickly wrapped his presence in as small a space as he could, actively avoiding touching the Master where ever possible. “I should go, I'm sorry, of course you wouldn't want to be around me.”

 

The Master caught the Doctor before he could leave. His emotions had done a complete turn around in a very short period, and he was having a difficult time figuring out the Doctor's motivation. Everything about the Doctor was causing him endless confusion. “What are you talking about?”

 

“They tortured you with my face.” The Doctor looked at him sadly. “I'm so _so_ sorry.”

 

The Doctor tried to leave again, and the Master stopped him. The Doctor refused to look up until the Master leaned forward and captured his hand. “Come with me.”

 

\----------

 

The Master lead the Doctor deeper into his mind. The Doctor recognized the parts of the mind they passed. He knew where they were going. All the same, watching it second hand, and actually seeing it were two different things. They were going to the dome. The most protected part of the Master's mind.

 

The dome, when they saw it, was huge. It was a fortress. And while it was made of what looked like stone and was a neutral color, it still held a striking beauty. The Doctor thought it made a lovely contrast with the new shields. From the way the Master looked at it, it was clear he was ashamed of the place, like he thought it showed his weakness, and maybe it did, but the Doctor thought it showed his strength as well.

 

The Master peaked at the Doctor from the corner of his eyes. The Doctor almost asked what was wrong, but he was interrupted by a loud noise. There was a deep crack in the dome. As he watched the reinforcements peeled back one at a time, some cracking, some crumbling, and some sucked straight into the ground, until all that was left was opaque glass. Slowly that bubbled and melted away.

 

Even though he expected it, even though he knew, the Doctor gasped when he saw himself. All of his old regenerations staring right back at him, along with Jack, Martha, and the TARDIS.

 

They spread out once they were free of the barrier, but none left. If anything they were drifting closer.

 

The Doctor tried to see himself in them, but they seemed put off by his presence, their eyes darting between him, the Master, their joined hands, and back. They were looking for cues.

 

The Doctor looked at the Master and found him looking away. The Doctor squeezed his hand and broke into a large grin, waving at his regenerations. As though a dam had broken the figments flocked around them.

 

Once they were an arms length away, the Doctor's tenth regeneration pulled out his old pair of glasses and studied him. “So this is how we end up looking, eh? A bow tie? Really?

 

The Doctor straightened it. “Bow ties are cool.”

 

They shared a grin.

 

There was a slight commotion towards the back of the crowd, and then an enthusiastic Theta Sigma shoved past his fourth and fifth regenerations and threw his arms around the Master.

 

The Master flinched and tensed noticeably, quickly dropping the Doctor's hand. To the Doctor it looked the Master wasn't used to being touched. From the looks the projections were sharing they were angry about that too.

 

Hugging the Master had to be getting awkward by now, but Theta Sigma was nothing if not persistent, and slowly the Master relaxed enough to place his arms around the child.

 

“Shut up.” The Master growled.

 

The Doctor tried to smother his smile.

 

“How could you think I would hold any of that against you?” The Master spoke so softly the Doctor almost missed it. “Why would I work so hard to protect them? You?” His eyes darted to the Doctor and then quickly away. “I can tell when it's you and when it isn't. It didn't matter that he wore your face, I was still him.”

 

The Doctor couldn't stop himself from stepping right up behind Theta and hugging the Master tight. The Master tensed again, and the Doctor hated that it was like he was expecting to be hit. Gradually he returned the embrace.

 

The Doctor had been around the universe a few times, and he knew about more cultures than he could count. Considering all of them he knew the average length of a hug was only three seconds. Five if you pushed it. At the seven second mark the Master began to tense again. The Doctor squeezed him tighter. He could feel the Master's embarrassment radiating all around them, but this had all been too much. He'd missed the Master, and after all that he'd suffered the one thing the Doctor regretted was not being as physically affectionate as he could have been. Now that he had the opportunity he was not letting go, not when by some lucky chance he'd been granted permission. From the way the Master's figments gathered close around them it was clear they wanted to touch the Master as well.

 

The Doctor could have gone on hugging the Master all day, but eventually it was Theta Sigma grumbling, “You're crushing me,” that broke them apart. The Doctor didn't let the Master go far. Theta slipped out from between them and stuck his tongue out at the Doctor.

 

The Doctor laughed. “I would never do that!”

 

The Master shook his head. “I swear that figment has a mind of his own.”

 

The Doctor smiled and drew the Master in, taking advantage of the recently vacated space to crowd him closer. He wrapped his consciousness, his whole being around the Master, locking their minds together. He felt the Master melt against him.

 

“I will never let them hurt you again.”

 

The Master tried to collect himself and pull away. The Doctor reached out and captured him again. “Master?”

 

“Time lock, remember? I doubt they'll be able to hurt me again.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

The Master pushed at the Doctor, trying to get room between them. The Doctor matched him, never letting the Master get too far. “I should have left you feeling guilty.”

 

“Stay with me.” The Doctor said.

 

The Master closed off instantly, and drew himself together, slipping away from the Doctor before he could be stopped.

 

The Doctor felt the Master's shields slam up, but with the Doctor already deep inside his mind, all this accomplished was locking them further together. “Why are you running?”

 

“I'm not running!” The Master shouted. His mind threw hate at the Doctor. The Doctor took it, and projected acceptance and safety.

 

“You are. It's okay to run. I's okay to be afraid. But you don't have to run from me. Tell me why you're trying to hide, I can help.”

 

“I don't need your help!”

 

The Doctor forced a smile. He drew the Master back in.

 

The Master bristled at the contact. He hated how much he liked it.

 

“Talk to me.”

 

“Why don't you just look for yourself! You're already here, you clearly aren't going to just leave me alone, so go find your damn answers!” The Master shouted.

 

The Doctor withdrew a little and studied the Master. He didn't look like he was kidding. When he was satisfied the Master was serious he glanced around.

 

The figments watched them with rapt attention.

 

The Doctor gestured Theta over and pushed the boy closer to the Master.

 

Once he took a step back the Master sank to the ground, and Theta climbed into his lap. The Doctor gestured again, and his fourth and tenth regeneration sat down on either side of him, wrapping their arms protectively around the Master's shoulders. His ninth stepped up behind them. He looked around at the rest of the regenerations and they stepped up around the Master, hiding him in the press of their bodies.

 

“Watch over them.” 

 

The regenerations nodded as one.

 

The Doctor turned away.

 

He flexed his mind and accessed a different part of the Master's mind. His thoughts and feelings. This was harder to traverse than memories. It was all jumbled around, in a constant state of flux. It reminded the Doctor of time, really. Always changing.

 

Right now the emotions were intermixed. The Master was hopeful and devastated. He was filled with hate, and it was all directed inward.

 

The Doctor was a little confused. The Master was currently surrounded by Doctors. He was cuddling and getting lots of affection. Even if the affection was from a figment, his mind should be registering a modicum of happiness. He looked closer, pressed a little deeper, and found pain, loss, and loneliness. There was nothing positive. The Doctor was used to these feelings but this was different.

 

He pushed against them and watched it branch out. The sadness was crippling.

 

The Doctor quickly withdrew with far less finesse than he'd normally display. Outside his mind he could feel tears tracking down his cheeks. He rushed back to where he left the Master, shoving past figments until he fell to his knees beside him.

 

“How could you possibly think that?” He asked. “How can you think I don't care about you?”

 

“I told you to look for yourself.” The Master muttered.

 

“I need to hear it from you.”

 

The Master pulled Theta in tighter. “You don't... you can't want me the same way I want you, Doctor. You're just afraid of being alone. I'm all you've got left. You'd never choose me on your own, not given other options.” He laughed. “Well. Perhaps out of pity. You do love being a martyr.” A tired defeated smile settled on the Master's face. “It was almost nice when he pretended to be you. I could almost believe you really...” He shook his head sharply. When he finally met the Doctor's eyes, his own were dead. “So let's just forget this ever happened, alright?”

 

 


	4. Healing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has the Master now, and he's going to take care of him. If the things in the dark don't kill them all first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be a Doctor Who fic without an adventure, right? 
> 
> All creatures, names included, are made up. 
> 
> Also, I happen to be an American and I'm going to try with the British version of everything, but I think I'm going to fail...

The Master's eyes opened with a gasp.

 

His eyes were dry, but there were wet streaks on his face. The Doctor wiped them away. “Sorry.”

 

The Master knocked the Doctor's hand away. He tried to sit up but the Doctor refused to move.

 

The Master settled back with a huff. “Get off me.”

 

The Doctor settled more comfortably. “Why can't I love you? I keep trying to work out your logic but... I'm afraid you've lost me.”

 

The Master shoved at the Doctor. “I've been more than helpful, if you can't figure it out that's your problem. Get off.”

 

“No. I'm quite comfortable.”

 

“Well I'm not!”

 

The Doctor smiled knowingly. “I think you are.”

 

“Get out of my head!”

 

“Who says I'm in your head? Why, was I right?”

 

“Stop it!”

 

“Master...” The Doctor leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the Master's forehead, “Master,” his cheek, “Master,” his throat. “How can you be so brilliant, and so stupid?”

 

“Hey!” The Master struggled in earnest.

 

“Hush.” The Doctor whispered. He pressed a kiss to the Master's lips. “I love you. I've always loved you.”

 

The Master whipped his head away. “You can't.”

 

The Doctor's hand guided the Master's face back. “You keep saying that, and yet...  I do.” The Master didn't fight when the Doctor kissed him again. “You know, your Theta wasn't that far off.”

 

“That brat?”

  
“Oh hush. You loved him.”

 

The Master sighed. “Did not.”

 

“Did to.”

 

“What are you, five?”

 

“If you weren't injured I'd make you pay for that.”

 

“Like you could.”

 

The Doctor's grin was dark. It sent a shiver down the Master's spine. He pressed a kiss to the Master's chin and tipped his head back, moving down to mouth at his pulse point.

 

The Master moaned his approval and ground his hips up. The Doctor slipped a knee between the Master's legs and settled more firmly between them. He expected a fight, but the Master surprised him and wrapped his legs around the Doctor's hips, pulling him closer.

 

The Master groaned.

 

The Doctor pulled away.

 

The Master fisted a hand in the Doctor's hair and tried to pull him back. The Doctor refused to follow.

 

The Master tugged irritably. “ _What?_ ”

 

“That wasn't a happy sound.”

 

“What? Seriously?”

 

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

 

The Master glared. “You are not hurting me. I will hurt you if you don't get back to it. Now.”

 

“Master,” the Doctor's tone was affectionate. It was almost irritating. “You're acting like this is a one time offer.”

 

The Master stilled. “Isn't it?”

 

The Doctor ground down.

 

The Master's head dropped back. “Oh, you cheater.”

 

“I've got you now, Master. I'm not letting go.”

 

The Doctor sat up and the Master dragged him back. “What happened to not letting go?”

 

“Metaphorically. You need to rest.”

 

“You have no idea how much I've been sleeping lately. I think I need a little exercise.”

 

“A walk sounds lovely, doesn't it?”

 

The Master closed his eyes. “This is actually happening, isn't it.”

 

“Come on, it'll be fun!”

 

“You're really going to just stop.”

 

“I'm sure we can get a fantastic room set up.”

 

“Oh, you're a menace. A tease. I never pegged you for a tease!”

 

The Doctor grabbed the Master's hand and tugged. “Only when you're hurt.”

 

The Master sighed and sat up. He slipped off the table and shivered when his feet hit the cold floor. The Doctor wrapped an arm around him and guided him out the door.

 

The Master would have protested the treatment but he was cold and the Doctor was warm. It was a convenient excuse.

 

They walked quietly down the hall. The Master knew the Doctor was slowing his stride for him. He sped up. The Doctor shook his head but joined him. “You've got nothing to prove to me.”

 

“Shut up and find the room already.”

 

“What makes you think I know where it is?”

 

“You mean there's something in your TARDIS you don't know about? That doesn't sound like you.”

 

The Doctor laughed and stopped. A door appeared. “Ah! We're here! I told you the TARDIS liked you.”

 

“This proves nothing. If anything it proves she loves you.”

 

“Nah, I'm not the injured one. If she didn't care we would have walked much longer. Believe me, she can get tetchy when she wants.” He pushed the door open.

 

The Master had never had such an elaborate room. Even on his own TARDIS he'd always slept in rather spartan conditions. The drums never encouraged much sleep.

 

The walls were a rich cream decorated with old  Gallifreyan prints – or at least he hoped they were prints. He didn't need or deserve originals. Along the far wall there was a work bench stacked high with various tools, and all the raw materials he could want. The Master itched to play with them. The Doctor pulled him away from them and steered him towards the bed. It looked sinfully comfortable. An oak frame with rich red coverings and black accents.

 

“Yes.” The Master easily twisted out of the Doctor's grip and launched himself onto the bed. It was more comfortable than it looked. He wasn't sure how that was possible. Still. Something was off. He peeked at the doorway. The Doctor was watching him with a smile. “Just going to stand there?”

 

The Doctor moved to the edge of the bed and sat beside him. “I take it you like it.”

 

“Mm.” Despite himself the Master felt exhausted. “Join me?”

 

“Sleep now, Master.”

 

The Master did.

 

\----------

 

The Master woke up with a warm arm around him. Before the panic could set in the Doctor's mind soothed him.

 

The Master stretched luxuriously and turned in his arms. The Doctor looked adorable in his sleep, his dark lashes framing pale cheeks. The Master took the opportunity to count the Doctor's eyelashes. At 96 the Doctor breathed out deeply and dragged the Master closer. At 150 his eyes opened. The Master frowned. “I was almost done.”

 

“Done?”

 

“Counting.”

 

“Counting what?”

 

The Master wasn't sure how to say it. He didn't hang around people very much but he was fairly certain this would be considered creepy. Still. He rolled on top of the Doctor.

 

The Doctor's hands bracketed his hips, steadying him. “Hello.”

 

He blinked and the Master tried to pick up where he left off.

 

“Master?”

 

“Shh.”

 

The Doctor smiled fondly. The Master's hands framed his face to keep him from moving. “Close your eyes.” When he finished he smoothed his thumbs over the Doctor's eyelids. “215.”

 

“Hair next?”

 

The Master dragged his fingers through the Doctor's hair. “We'd never get done.”

 

The Doctor's fingers traced up under the Master's shirt. “Feel like going on an adventure?”

 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

 

“Not that. You're injured, Master.”

 

“So you say. But you _are_ the Doctor, right? Make me better.”

 

The Doctor giggled. “That was terrible.”

 

The Master shifted back against the Doctor's stirring interest. “And yet...”

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Not till you're better.”

 

“Monster.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“Bastard.”

 

“Your terms of endearment need a little bit of work though.”

 

The Master rolled off the Doctor.

 

“Hey, where are you going?”

 

The Master closed his eyes. “To get better.”

 

The Doctor watched him intently. Nothing happened. “Well?”

 

“Shut up, I'm working.”

 

“You're going to _will_ yourself better? I was expecting something more... dramatic.”

 

“Do I need to transport into some blue void, glow white, and emerge fully transformed, new outfit and all to impress you?”

 

“Sailor Master?”

 

“I was thinking Sailor Gallifrey, and it is _sad_ that you got that reference.”

 

“Isn't equally sad that you _made_ that reference?”

 

The Master continued valiantly over him. “If I can adjust my cells, make them absorb more oxygen, slow down, speed up... why can't I force them to mend faster?”

 

“I doubt it works like that.”

 

“I think it does. Time Lords already heal faster than, say, your apes. Why can't we find a way to heal even faster?”

 

The Doctor watched the Master concentrate for a few minutes, then poked his nose. “I have a better idea.”

 

“Better than an intellectual challenge? You should be taking notes.”

 

“I think we should expand your challenge.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I know a planet with healing waters. We could go see how Time Lord physiology reacts when exposed to it.”

 

“Why does it sound like you're just forcing me to rest more?”

 

“Well. Only because adding two variables would ruin the data. And my way sounds more fun, doesn't it?”

 

The Master sighed. “I don't have a choice, do I?”

 

“Nope! Get dressed, let's go!”

 

“Not going to dress me like a doll?”

 

“Oh, did I forget to mention? Clothing isn't permitted. It's a nude facility.”

 

The Master closed his eyes. Of course it was.

 

\----------

 

The Master followed the Doctor off the TARDIS. He wore knee length shorts that were a garish orange and a black tank top. He wasn't looking forward to taking either off. Even if this was a place of healing he knew he was going to get some weird looks. As the crowds thickened closer to the entrance the Master dropped back, allowing more people to step in front of and around him. When he lost sight of the Doctor he considered doubling back and finding some place private to wait in. He took a step back and collided with the Doctor's chest. “Trying to run away?”

 

“Clearly not hard enough.”

 

“Come on, Master. This isn't going to be painful, I promise!”

 

“Promise? Can you really promise that?”

 

“... yes?”

 

“And what do I get when you're wrong?”

 

“What do I get if I'm right?” 

 

“Sex obviously.”

 

“Won't I get that anyway?”

 

“Not the way you're heading.” The Master's feet slowed as the gates loomed over head. “Are you sure we should do this? I'm really not feeling it. It is a proven fact that I don't get on well with crowds.”

 

“It'll be fun.” The Doctor pulled the Master over to a large window set into a wall along side almost a dozen others.

 

They waited in a short line and then were greeted by a green skinned hostess. “Welcome to Healing Spirits Spa, just the two of you today?”

 

The Doctor gave her a charming smile. “Full day passes, yes please.” He handed over a ridiculous number of copper coins.

 

“You can't be serious.”

 

The woman held out two shimmering green wristbands the Doctor allowed her to secure it to his wrist. They both looked at the Master expectantly.

 

“You just gave her way too much money.”

 

“Just give her your wrist, Master.”

 

The Master begrudgingly held out his wrist. Once it was secure the bands blinked red and a small timer started.

 

“Thank you! You two have a wonderful time in there. The locker room is just inside and to your left. Towels will be handed out at the entrance.” The woman smiled, and her eyes slid off them and to the people standing behind them.

 

The Master grumbled and followed the Doctor into the resort. He snatched the towel from the attendant at the entrance to the locker room. “People really pay that obscene amount for this crap?”

 

“You haven't even gone inside yet. Worth every penny.”

 

“Not if it's going to be this crowded.”

 

“Different passes go to different caves, Master, it'll thin out soon enough.”

 

The Doctor lead them through the bodies around them and to an empty locker. He shrugged off his jacket and folded it, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He looked at the Master expectantly.

 

“This really wasn't how I imagined our first time...”

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Shirt, Master.”

 

The Master looked around self consciously.

 

The Doctor touched his arm. “It's okay.”

 

The Master glared and tugged off his shirt. He stiffened, bunching it in his hands. He was sure everyone was looking at him. Wondering who he'd pissed off. Their eyes made his shoulder twitch. He began imagining how many he had to kill before they finally looked away.

 

“It's alright, Master. You're safe.” The Master's eyes snapped open. He hadn't realized he'd closed them. The Doctor had him backed against the locker, blocking him from the others in the room. “Breathe.”

 

“I'm fine.” He shoved at the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor eased away. The Master looked around the room and noticed all the men conveniently looking the other way. He glared at their backs. “Let's get this over with.” He tugged off his shorts and tossed them into the locker. The Doctor hurried to catch up.

 

Outside the locker room there was a flat platform that divided into a series of caves. A humanoid man with green tinted skin stood at attention in a black Kevlar uniform. Three knives were hung on his hips and a large silver stun gun was slung across his shoulders. The Master calculated how long it would take to grab it. Charge. Fire...

 

“Wristbands?”

 

The Master blinked and the fantasy ended. He held up his wrist.

 

The man nodded. “Full day. Fifth cave on the left.”

 

“Thank you!” The Doctor grinned brightly and lead the Master around the man.

 

In the dark the cave branched off. There was a dim light at the divide between each, and the Master could see the light reflecting off nude bodies in the darkness. The Doctor turned them left. There were deep pools off the main path big enough for one person to move comfortably.

 

The Doctor stepped into one. He grabbed the Master's hand before he could move to the next pool and settled him comfortably against his chest. The Master hissed. The water was steaming.

 

“See? Isn't the water nice?”

 

The Master shuddered. “A bit hot isn't it?”

 

“Heated by the planets core.”

 

“That isn't comforting.”

 

“Hush and let it work.”

 

“You're mental.”

 

The Master couldn't see the Doctor's face in the darkness, but when the Doctor tipped his head back the Master followed and rested in the curve of the Doctor's neck. He arched as a tingle raced up his spine. The Master felt the Doctor smile. “How's the experiment going?”

 

The Master tried to settle back, but the sensation continued. He glared in the darkness. “Nothing should be happening. Water doesn't heal...”

 

“But the creatures in the water can.”

 

The Master groaned. “Parasites. Cheater. You said the water was healing, this doesn't count.”

 

The tingling was stronger in the larger wounds down his arms and chest. Now that the Master knew what was happening he knew what the parasites were. Cleaners. He could visualized the creatures stitching him back up. They fed on wounded flesh and blood, but the saliva covering their jaws promoted healing. They didn't care for healthy skin. The Master relaxed and let them work.

 

“This isn't going to work, you know.”

 

“I thought we agreed about the parasites...”

 

“You and me.”

 

“I thought we agreed about that too.”

 

“For now. But one of these days I'm going to screw up and you're going to hate me.”

 

“Couldn't happen.”

 

“No? What's going to happen when I kill someone?”

 

“Well, you don't have to kill anyone. It's more of a challenge to leave them alive, don't you think?”

 

“Hm.” The Master closed his eyes and thought about it, drifting lightly, doing his best to ignore the tingling. It was annoying that the Doctor was right. It would present more of a challenge. “Bastard, you're lucky I love you,” the Master sighed.

 

The Doctor chuckled, his fingers tracing abstract patterns on the Master's stomach. As much as he hated to admit it, it was peaceful.

 

They were roused by a distant rumble.

 

The Doctor stiffened behind him, sitting up. The Master grumbled when his position was compromised.

 

There was another rumble, this one louder. The Master checked his wrist against the faint light coming from behind him. “Leave it to you to attract trouble when we've still got hours to go.”

 

“I didn't plan for this!”

 

There was a third rumble echoing like thunder.

 

“You said somethings wrong?” The man in the pool beside them sounded almost hysterical.

 

“No,” the Master drawled, “that's totally normal. Can we go now, Doctor?”

 

“But the excitement is just starting!”

 

“How are we supposed to stop a cave in?”

 

“A cave in?” Men and boys were rising from the water and grouping around them clutching towels to their waists. “What do you mean?”

 

“It could be more than a cave in. We should investigate. Should be fun, right?”

 

“I'm not sure if it has escaped your notice, but we happen to be naked and weaponless.”

 

“I think we look quite dashing.”

 

“Locker room first, otherwise I'm staying here.”

 

“Fine. Everyone, to the locker room!”

 

The Doctor turned and marched towards the exit as another rumble sounded behind them. The Master disregarded the noise and refused to move in favor of watching the Doctor's perfect arse as he walked away.

 

The Doctor glanced back at him. “Coming, Master?”

 

“Just waiting for stragglers,” the Master lied. He looked around and found the last of two small boys rushing past him. The rumbles were getting louder now.

 

The Master stepped towards it, peering into the darkness. Something was off about the sound. His eye caught a flash of silver. He glanced back towards the Doctor. He could still see the backs of a few heads. He wouldn't be missed yet. The Master moved closer to the silver and found a maintenance locker. The lock wasn't too sophisticated; the Master got in easily .

 

The Master still wasn't sure why this place had so many weapons, but he quickly loaded up, clipping a black belt with four knives hanging off it into place. The weight of the knives dragged it low on his hips, and he knew he looked ridiculous. He ignored it in favor of unhooking a large silver stun gun. A few modifications and it was overcharged. It would do more than stun. He slung it over his shoulders.

 

“Master?” The voice was faint.

 

The Master closed the locker and sprinted back to the group he'd left. The crowd parted quickly when he arrived, wide eyed as they took in his weaponry. The Master grinned. He might look ridiculous naked, but he clearly struck the right note.

 

“I thought you said you were going to give it a try?” The Doctor asked meekly.

 

“That doesn't mean I'm giving up the gun. Look at it, it's beautiful.”

 

The Doctor pouted.

 

“Not as beautiful as you,” the Master conceded, “but still.”

 

The Doctor smiled and took the last bend that lead to the caves brightly lit entrance. There were more people here, men, women and children wrapped tightly in their towels. The Doctor and the Master pushed through and found the reason why. The locker room entrance was blocked by rubble. They were trapped inside.

 

The Master swore.

 

There was another rumble. This one shook the floor, and more loose rock fell from the ceiling.

 

The Doctor studied the fallen rock, the door behind it, the group around him, until his eyes settled on the one clothed being with them – the guard. “This doesn't sound like a normal cave in. The sound is too measured, too... metallic.”

 

The room silenced and all eyes focused on him.

 

“The...” the guard looked around hesitantly, “the main pump is malfunctioning. Everyone remain calm, it will be fixed shortly.”

 

The Doctor's brow furled. “But the main pump would compromise the whole structure.”

 

The guard took a step back. “It will be fixed shortly.”

 

“After it kills us all,” the Master said.

 

“We need to find a way to repair it before the caves collapse, so you mister guard person, what's your name?”

 

“Jim.”

 

“Jim, you are going to take me to it. Yes? Yes.”

 

“No,” Jim said, “protocol dictates remaining calm and in place until the situation is rectified.”

 

The Master stepped up behind him and shoved the butt of his rifle into the small of Jim's back. “You listen to me, because if you don't I will end you. Where is the main pump?”

 

“The subbasement!” Jim said desperately. “The stairwell can take you down, but no one should go down there, if that pump fails completely the pressure will overwhelm it and it'll blow!”

 

“Fun fact,” the Master said, “you'll die no matter where you are if that happens.”

 

“Lead the way, we're going down,” the Doctor said.

 

“I'm not taking you anywhere.”

 

The Master fired, just missing the guards foot. “That was a warning. Disobey again and I won't miss.”

 

“Are you insane?!”

 

The Master grinned maniacally. “Right on the first go! Give him a hand, ladies and gentlemen!”

 

He swung the gun around. “I said give him a hand!”

 

There was a smattering of applause. The Doctor was trying not to smile; the Master sent him a wink.

 

“Stairway?” The Doctor asked innocently.

 

Jim looked between them and then jerked away, heading for a door hidden in the back amongst the rock.

 

The Doctor brushed the Master's arm as he walked past.

 

There was another rumble, strong enough to knock the Master off his feet. There was a loud crack and the rocks began pouring from the ceiling. The Master rolled to his feet and lunged back.

 

He thought he heard his name shouted amongst the rocks.

 

\----------

 

The Master was on the ground. Rocks were digging into his stomach and thighs. He pushed himself up and brushed at the dust that now clung to him.

 

“Master?!” The voice was muffled between the rocks.

 

The Master experimentally moved a few, and more rocks poured down. He jumped back.

 

“Master!” The Doctor sounded really panicked now.

 

The Master glanced at the crowd of men and women standing as far back as they could. “They're fine, stop worrying. I haven't killed anyone yet.”

 

“Are _you_ okay?”

 

The Master paused. The Doctor had derailed him. He hadn't considered the Doctor would be worried about _him_. “Fine. I'm fine. Of course I'm fine.”

 

“Right. Good. Jim here says there's an emergency exit at the bottom of the first cave.” The Master could practically hear the Doctor straightening up. “I'll stop the place from blowing, you save the tourists, then we'll go have tea!”

 

The Master breathed out hard and slowly turned. Twenty of them stared back. They seemed terrified that the hero had just left, and they'd been left with... him... The Master glanced at the tunnel and back. It'd be easier to go alone. “I need to make this crystal clear. If it were up to me I'd leave you here to die, hell, I'd probably just kill you myself. The only reason I'm even considering this is because the Doctor wants you to live. When we get through this, _and we will_ , you will thank him, understood?”

 

There was a hesitant confirmation.

 

“Grab the lights and let's go. I want every kid holding someones hand. It's a maze down there and we are not doubling back for anyone.”

 

The Master gave them a few minutes and then headed down into the caves, ignoring the rumbling and the shift of falling rocks. He wasn't afraid. Not of this, not of anything.

 

It was dark in the caves. The lights that had been hanging on the walls had gone out. The only light was coming from the crowd behind him. He turned away from them and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark until he could see make out the details around him. The group behind him was close. He could hear them talking quietly amongst themselves. He didn't look back to check on them. Any light at his point would ruin his night vision.

 

He paused and held out a hand signaling the group to stop.

 

Something had changed. Something was in the air.

 

There was a hiss and a large form rose out of the darkness.

 

The gun was instantly in his hands, aimed at a spot that was sure to incapacitate, if not kill, the creature.

 

His finger froze on the trigger. The Doctor wouldn't want him to kill it, even if it was to save his own life.

 

The hesitation gave the creature a window of opportunity. It swung around, bringing its tail down with enough force to carry the Master off his feet and into the wall.

 

Someone in the group behind him screamed.

 

The tail was off ripped away and the creature was facing him, its roar echoing around them. The Master dropped the gun and unsheathed the knives. When it lunged the Master caught it through the cheek, pinning the creature to the floor. It would get out eventually. With any luck it would avoid him for the rest of its life though.

 

“Lets keep moving.” The Master waited until the group carefully edged past the thrashing creature, and then turned away from the glowing lights and headed back into the caves. 

 

He didn't want to admit it but he was a little more concerned now. If a Zahn'atal was creeping in the dark, anything could be. At least this explained the weaponry this place supplied. It was a pity. The Zahn'atal were exceptional creatures. Their skin was pigmented to blend with any surrounding, but when viewed under any form of light it glittered like diamonds.

 

They rounded another bend and two small children ran forward and grabbed his hands. They were looking around their dark surroundings fearfully. The Master slowed to accommodate them. When he felt someone step up behind him the Master tried to shake the kids off and pass them over.

 

The kids held fast.

 

“You're going to protect us right?”

 

“Haven't I?” The Master glanced down at the little boy beside him. “I'm the scariest thing down here, trust me.”

 

The kids didn't answer, but they pressed closer.

 

The path was getting steeper. The air was noticeably colder, despite the steam rising off the water around them. There was a noise in the darkness. Something skittered over the rocks. The noise was almost lost in the next rumble.

 

“What was that?” The whole group stopped. The Master tried to take another step forward, but he was held back. “What _was_ that?”

 

The skittering echoed again.

 

The Master brushed the kids off and this time they let him go. One of the men of the group gathered them close.

 

The Master peered into the darkness. The skittering had clearly locked onto their location. Whatever it was, it had found them.

 

The Master focused.

 

He'd heard that sound before, he just needed to pin where. Somewhere dark. Somewhere... quiet. He had it. And they were screwed. The crowd was too loud. They weren't doing anything bad or obnoxious. They were just crying, they were breathing too hard. It wasn't their fault, but it was going to get them all killed.

 

It was still early enough that the Master could make a clean break. The Sanfaptera was going to focus on the main source of noise, he could easily disappear into the darkness. But... the Doctor would be disappointed. “Turn out the light. Get quiet. Stay quiet. Not a sound.”

 

The lights blinked out. The Master swiveled around and slipped into the darkness. He made sure he could still make the group, but that his location couldn't be mistaken for theirs. “Here.”

 

The skittering was getting closer. “Here.”

 

It was angled towards him now. “Here.”

 

There were small whimpering noises coming from his group, but he was being louder. “Here.”

 

He dragged his gun across his chest and started taking it apart, dropping the pieces loudly around him. “Here.”

 

His clever fingers knew what they were looking for. “Here.”

 

The skittering stopped, placing the Sanfaptera  a few feet away. The Master knew what was going to happen next.

 

There was an ear splitting cry.

 

The Master brought his hand down hard, smashing the small cell. There was an explosion of light so bright the whole cave was illuminated.

 

Even though the Master knew it would hurt he forced his eyes open. He wanted to see.

 

The Sanfaptera's jaws were huge, just inches away from his face. Five rows of teeth all dripping with a sedative in the form of venom. The creature was hideously grotesque, but its mouth was a thing of beauty. Rising above it were two large eyes, all black, designed to absorb as much light as possible. It made light the perfect offense.

 

The light faded in seconds and left the Master blind. He took a step forward and swayed. The silence was back and screaming. He steadied himself on the rocks behind him.

 

Gradually sound leaked back into his surroundings. The steady drip of water, the hitching sobs behind him. He took a deep breath. The Sanfaptera had fled. They looked vicious, but they were desperately afraid of the light. “It's gone.”

 

“How....”

 

“It's gone. Let's go before it comes back.”

 

“But it's still out there!”

 

“If you'd rather wait here and see whether or not it comes back be my guest, everyone else, let's go.”

 

The Master turned and stumbled forward. Someone caught his arm and steadied him, but with his vision gone he couldn't make out who. The Master growled and whoever it was let go. The kids latched back on to him. The Master scowled in the dark.

 

It took two more turns before they saw light at the end of the tunnel. For once the Master was rushed, the crowd pushing him along as they made for light. As they got closer the ground evened out, transitioning from uneven rock to tile and concrete. Then they were out of the tunnels and it was as if a weight had been released from the group.

 

The Master could only hope the Doctor was having as much luck as they were.

 

The building was as much a maze as the caves, but the Master had escaped from a fair few amount of underground places. He found a path that led up and herded the group in the right direction. When they opened the last door sunlight came streaming through. They stepped through, and then the ground gave a violent shudder.

 

The Master knew he should stay outside.

 

He turned for the staircase and ran.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is smut in your future.


	5. And in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master never really expected to find himself running *towards* danger, and yet here he finds himself. Lucky for him, the Doctor is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Notice that the rating went up!
> 
> Originally I was going to just leave telepathic speech as italicized but then I got worried someone might have trouble differentiating between the Master and the Doctor. SO! 
> 
> Master is italicized, and Doctor is italicized *and bolded*. Everyone got it? Good! :D
> 
> Also, I don't like my Doctor submissive and... wibbley wobbly. So don't expect that. In fact, he can be a down right bastard. So expect that. 
> 
> And again, I'll try to use British spelling, and I probably will fail. Sorry.

The Master dodged falling rocks and made it to the staircase in record time, slamming the door behind him. The well was stark white with blinding lights overhead, and while he could still hear the rocks falling outside, the sound was muffled.

 

The Master wasn't sure where the pump would be located, but he could feel the Doctor somewhere below him. He clung to the banister to keep from falling and he raced downward, his body slamming into the wall of every corner platform.

 

This whole situation was unusual. The Master wasn't used to running _towards_ danger. At least, not danger he wasn't actively causing. It was a surreal experience.

 

He skidded to a stopped at sub floor 14.

 

It looked the same as every other floor, but the Doctor was standing behind this one. He braced himself for the hoards of monsters and humans likely to have materialized in his absence and shoved the door open.

 

The main pump dominated the room, surrounded by a metal stairway and catwalk. The Doctor was surprisingly alone, even Jim was long gone, and was standing on the top level alternating between running his sonic screwdriver along the computer terminal and hitting the actual pump with something that looked very much like a hammer. 

 

The Doctor looked up. “Oh! Hello, Master!”

 

The pump shuddered and its movements slowed dramatically. There was a brief pause of silence, and then a rumble resonated from it, knocking them both back.

 

The Doctor's arms pinwheeled and caught the rail behind him. The Master fell back against the wall.

 

The second it passed the Doctor ran back along the catwalk to the other side of the pump. The Master watched the Doctor incredulously. “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

The Doctor ran back to the main terminal, his sonic racing along the screen. “Come on!” He smacked the monitor, and then ran back to the pump, running the sonic along various pistons.

 

“Let's just run! They're out!”

 

“Do we know for a fact everyone's out? We didn't check _every_ cave.”

 

“You _bastard_ you are going to get us both killed! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

The Doctor grinned. “Help me out, then. Are you going to let this thing kill us? Our lives are in your hands!”

 

“My hands? Your hands by the looks of it.”

 

“Are you implying my hands aren't the safest?”

 

“That depends, are you seriously hitting that thing with a hammer?”

 

The Doctor looked at the hammer, looked at the Master and tossed it over his shoulder. “Humans seem to swear by it.” He ran back to the monitor and ran his sonic along it. “It's over heating. We need to cool it down.”

 

The Doctor looked up, searching for something. The Master hoped it was for an emergency release. The place was full of water, you'd think they'd have some on hand to cool the pump with. 

 

The pump stuttered again, causing another rumble to knock the Master off his feet. The Master looked up and watched rocks shake free, some falling between the pump and its sleeve, some hitting the catwalk the Doctor worked on. The Doctor didn't seem to care about the danger they presented. 

 

The Master ignored the Doctor racing back and forth above him and moved to the body of the pump. He watched it piston, the body slowly moving in and out of its sleeve. He knew what he was looking for and found it. A large group of rocks that were grinding further into the gears, scratching up both the sleeve and the pump, causing irreparable damage to both. He could see a thin layer of rock, but from the deep grind he could hear from within he knew there must be more further down.

 

The Master glanced at the Doctor. If there was a major obstruction in the sleeve no amount of sonicing or adjusting or even cooling was going to fix it. Well. It might, and knowing the Doctor he would find away, but the Master was done waiting. There was a faster way. The rocks could be removed manually.

 

Without a word the Master darted through a maintenance hatch and began to work his way down the body of the pump.

 

It was hot down below. Steam leaked from the gears around the pump and creeped up through the grating of the stairway he raced down. Every touch of metal hurt, and he regretted his bare feet, but it wasn't crippling. He'd endured far worse.

 

Down here the noise had amplified. The grinding was deafening, growing louder the further down he moved. And it was almost rhythmic. It wasn't in fours, but it was all encompassing. It reverberated off the walls, through the floor, and up through his feet into his very bones.

 

A wide, painful grin stretched across his face. He was _used_ to this, and suddenly it was as though he could _think_ again. All of his thoughts slotted into place, his _feelings_ vanished, all his uncertainties and weaknesses melted away, and then he was flying, launching off the staircase, holding on to life by the tips of his fingers. It was fantastic.

 

It was almost disappointing when he reached the obstruction. A huge build up of rocks and various metals rubbing alternately between the piston and its sleeve.

 

The Master pressed up against the rail and leaned over as far as he could, his feet leaving the ground as he tried to get a better look. He could see an emergency release further down clearly put in place for this eventuality, but the block had managed to get stuck just above it.

 

With every labored movement of the pump a few rocks would slip down, but not enough. As he watched the rocks seized together, gradually creating an immovable wall that was scrapping the hell out of the piston and its sleeve, leaving a strong window of opportunity for this disaster to happen again before relaxing. The pump moved again, and the blockage firmed up. The Master could actually _see_ the resonance race through the rock, and watch as the rumble began and then branched out, racing up the sleeve and through the structure, nearly knocking the Master off his already tenuous perch.

 

The Master laughed and rode it out, a large part of his mind screaming at him to let go and really _feel_ the sound, become one with it as it destroyed everything around them.

 

_But what would the Doctor say?_

 

“Shut up!” The Master snarled at the pump, shoving himself away from the rail. “Just shut up!”

 

He felt a questioning brush of the Doctor's mind. He shoved it violently away and paused. It was only a moment, but a moment was all he needed to remember that he wasn't there to destroy the caves above him. He pressed back apologetically.

 

Now the sound that had brought him such pleasure brought him only anger. He bared his teeth and growled, his mind already racing with calculations. He needed to destroy something. The obstruction would have to do.

 

After watching the shift for a few minutes he found the weak point. He needed to apply pressure at just the right angle to knock the rocks through.

 

He considered jumping and doing it himself. He'd probably die. Probably. But that didn't really matter. The rocks would fall with him. He'd win. 

 

He blinked and found himself perched on the railing. His mind had stopped him from moving any further. It reminded him that there was no way he could give sufficient force.

 

He climbed down carefully, his eyes tracking the stairwell for a maintenance locker. He found one several floors below.

 

The Master eyed the weak spot as he raced down the stairs. He felt he had more control over himself as he downed the first floor, but the further down he moved the further he lost himself to the beat. It drove away everything else.

 

He lost himself.

 

He came to with his arms bracketed around the locker. He didn't remember arriving.

 

That probably wasn't good.

 

He tore the door open and mentally cheered. A gun. He loved this place, really. So many weapons. His mind spiraled down, thinking about loading up, taming the beasts in the darkness and taking over the planet.

 

Another questioning brush of the Doctor's mind. _**Are you okay down there?**_

 

_Shut up!_ The Master slammed his shields up, but he had control again.

 

He took down the gun, cracked it open, overcharged it. He honestly didn't know why the facility didn't just leave them overcharged. Who needed a gun that would leave a few scorch marks at best? He slung it over his shoulders and searched through the rest of the locker. There was a large cloth hose coiled in the back. The Master dismissed it. It wouldn't output enough water to cool this thing down. Must be in case of fire. Two knives. Useless. A few charges and a detonator. That might come in handy.

 

The Master raced back up until he found a good position. He stumbled as another rumble shook the structure. When he'd regained his balance he'd found the weak spot. In the constant shifting of the rock it had moved slightly, but he could still hit it.

 

The Master fired once. Twice. A third time.

 

The rocks caved slightly, but not nearly enough to free the structure. He snarled, disappointed, and unleashed hell, shooting it repeatedly until the charge depleted.

 

He swore.

 

There was a tapping on his shields. _**Master?**_

 

He lowered them. _What?_

 

_**There's no way to clear the blockage from here, and the machine is overheating too quickly. I have to release the coolant.** _

 

_About time._

 

_**I can' release it with you down there.** _

 

_I seriously doubt it's an instant freeze. It's just water, it won't kill me. You need to be careful though, there's a large build up down here that might not get cleared if you use up all the water and miss._

 

_**Can you clear it?** _

 

_What do you think I've been doing? Knitting?_

 

_**Ah, my sweet little house wife.** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**Master? That was a joke!** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**Master?** _

 

The Master sighed and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _I think I can weaken the blockage. From what I can see down here it's weakest right after the rumble. Release the coolant right after one and we might have a chance._

 

_**And how are you going to keep from getting swept away with it?** _

 

_I've got an idea._ The Master jumped off the platform and onto the rocks. They were in a constant state of motion. The Master dropped to one knee and tried to regain his balance. Once he could move without fear of falling, he placed the charges where they could do the most damage.

 

_**And this idea would be...** _

 

_Don't you trust me?_ The rhythm was encouraging him to do stupid things, but he was making it work for him. He usually did. The Master took a running jump and caught the side of a platform two floors below. For a moment he thought he might fall, then his foot caught the lip and he dragged himself up

 

_**That seems like a loaded question...** _

 

_I'm hurt._ The rocks were beginning to firm up again. _Get ready._ The Master took off down the staircase back towards the locker. He felt more in control than he did during his last descent, though he still couldn't keep the bounce out of his step or the grin off his face.

 

_**It's not that I don't trust you...** _

 

_It's okay, I'm the bad guy, I get it._ The Master skidded to a halt beside the locker.

 

_**It's not that! Why would I take you with me if I didn't trust you?** _

 

_You've always been rather stupid._ He unhooked the hose and dragged it out.

 

_**Anyone can change, Master...** _

 

_I wouldn't trust me either._ It fell in thick coils around his feet.

 

_**Would you let me finish? You've died in my arms. You purposely refused to regenerate. I just don't want to lose you. Not again.** _

 

The Master paused. He shook his head and wrapped the hose tightly around his waist, chest and arm. _You ready?_

 

_**Are you?** _

 

The rocks were almost there. He hoped the charges wouldn't be triggered by the movement and blow too soon.

 

Then the rumble came. The Master was jerked off his feet and tangled in the hose.

 

He hit the detonator and the charges exploded.

 

The Master was close enough to them that the heat burned bright, hotter than even the metal beneath him. Chunks of rock were blown apart, and while the whole structure dipped it did not fall. Then the water hit it. There was a wall of burning steam, and then the water engulfed everything.

 

The Master was torn off the floor and towards the sleeve before the hose jerked him to a halt, and he was left twisting in the water rushing around him. There was a loud noise, and then rocks of all sizes were flying around him, bouncing off his flesh and the metal.

 

_**Are you alright down there?** _

 

_Just peachy._

 

_**And the block?** _

 

The Master couldn't see through the debris flying around him, though they were a rather strong indicator. _I can't be positive._ His eyes locked onto a larger rock swirling through the water. He plotted the trajectory without really thinking about it, and closed his eyes anticipating the blow. It hit, knocking the air from his lungs. _Fuck_. They failed and he floundered for a moment before his bypass kicked in.

 

_**Master?** _

 

Of course the Doctor would catch that.

 

_**How much longer can you stand it?** _

 

The Master focused. _Long enough._ He closed his eyes and held on.

 

Gradually the suction lessened. His feet touched the ground and then his body. Unobserved, the Master allowed himself to gasp and pant as he tried to unwind the hose.

 

There was a loud buzz, then the sound of the motor kicking in, and then the pump was moving fast in its sleeve without anything obstructing its path, so smoothly it generated almost no noise at all.

 

That was almost... depressing.

 

He could feel the Doctor's presence waiting for him to say something. A little ball of worry at the edge of his consciousness. He should probably do something about that.

 

A bubble of laughter escaped him. Then more, until it rang around him, clinging to the metal feeding, echoing back, until he was sure the pump was laughing with him. The worry above him intensified, but the Master couldn't stop. He curled on his side, his already exhausted lungs cramping as the laughter shook his thin frame. He laughed until it hurt, until he couldn't breathe.

 

Hands smoothed down his face. The Master grinned under the questing fingertips. “That was fun.”

 

The Doctor helped the Master up, rather obviously checking him over. His fingers alighted over new injuries.

 

The Master hummed happily, his mind blissfully blank. He pressed past the Doctor's fingers and pushed his face in the curve of the Doctor's neck. The Doctor hesitated before wrapping his arms around him. “Let's go home.”

 

The Master made a noncommittal sound. He didn't particularly care where they ended up. He didn't look up until the Doctor nudged him up onto the medical bed.

 

“Oh, gods not here again. Wait, where do you think you're going?” The Master caught the Doctor before he could step away. “I don't need or want to be here. Let's find somewhere else to be, yes? Somewhere flat.” The Master nipped at the Doctor's neck. He thrummed with energy. He could still feel echos of the beat running through him. He wanted to destroy something. Leave bruises. Set off explosives. Jump off buildings. It was like the old days, back when the drums dictated everything. It was terrifying, and he loved every moment of it.

 

“Let me fix you up, Master.” The Doctor reached for the bandages.

 

“Why?” The Master pounced, knocking the Doctor to the floor. “Hello, lovely.”

 

The Doctor smiled sweetly and tugged the Master down. The Master lost himself to the kiss, pressing closer, licking deeper.

 

The Doctor gathered the Master close, then pushed forward until he was sitting with the Master straddling his thighs.

 

This was bliss. It was his for the taking. The drums never would have allowed him this freedom. He reveled in it.

 

The Doctor reached for the Master, then past him, reaching for something behind them. He came back with a roll of bandages and set them down beside them.

 

The Master decided he needed to work a bit harder if the Doctor was still able to think about anything but him, and attacked his mouth with renewed fervor.

 

The Doctor nipped at the Master's lips and guided him down onto his back. “ _Finally_.”

 

He worked his way down the Master's chest, pressing at his ribs. “Good. Not broken.”

 

The Master groaned and sat up, knocking the Doctor's hands away. “I am clearly failing in some way.”

 

The Doctor chuckled and pressed the Master back down. He drew up a leg and checked the Master's feet.

 

The Master covered his eyes. “No, it's you. You're failing.”

 

The Doctor laughed and pressed a kiss to the Master's ankle before pulling back to push gently at the soles of his feet.

 

The Master sighed. “Satisfied?”

 

The Doctor kissed the Master's hands and helped him to his feet, leading him out the door. “Satisfied.”

 

The Master frowned. He was tired of the affectionate treatment, and with the thrum running through his veins he felt more alive and wild than he had since his arrival. It was demanding something rough, and he was helpless, unable to disobey.

 

He tore his hands out of the Doctor's grip and pinned him to the wall.

 

The Doctor whispered words of encouragement every time they came up for air in a language the Master knew had been dead for eons. He dragged his nails through the Master's hair, digging into his scalp and the Master purred. That was more like it! For a moment he was happy they'd neglected to dress and dragged his hand roughly down the Doctor's back to the curve of his arse. The kiss was bruising, but the Master could feel the Doctor smiling through it. He growled in annoyance.

 

The Doctor laughed and pushed the Master back, leading him further down the hallway. The Master tried to pin the Doctor to the wall again, but the Doctor was able to at least partially fend him off until he finally caught the Master low across the hips and carried him bodily down the hall.

 

“Door!” The Master bit at the Doctor's jaw and up his ear.

 

“Don't ask me, ask her.”

 

“I am asking her!”

 

A door appeared a few feet away.

 

“Thank you!”

 

The Doctor kicked the door open and slammed it shut, pinning the Master to it. 

 

The Master glared and broke his hold, shoving him back enough to get a knee between the Doctor's legs. The Doctor twisted a hand in the Master's hair and yanked back hard enough to bare the Master's throat.

 

“Get on with it.” The Master said, trying to disguise a rather embarrassing sound as a snarl.

 

The Doctor bit the Master's shoulder hard enough to bruise, and skated his hands up the Master's chest, licking back into his mouth. The Master was a bit surprised at the deep possessiveness of the gesture and the heavy press of his mind. He was having a hard time hiding how arousing he was finding it.

 

“Bed.” The Doctor panted.

 

“Wall.” The Master protested.

 

“Next time.” The Doctor pealed the Master off the door and pushed him towards the bed.

 

“Are you always this needy?”

 

The Doctor laughed, and launched himself at the Master knocking him flat on his back. They bounced twice in the softness of the bed, jumbled amongst the sheets.

 

The Master was caught off guard, and his natural instinct was to attack back. The Doctor seemed to sense this and grabbed the Master's hands before he could ball them into fists and trapped them above his head. The Master thrashed in his grip, then changed tactics and bit into the Doctor's mouth, attacking him with everything he had. The Doctor matched the Master's intensity, keeping him pinned beneath him.

 

The Master's mind thrummed happily amongst the harsh pressure of the Doctor's lips and teeth, but soon the Doctor changed the pace and started slowing them down. He moved gently over the Master. Cherished him.

 

The Master shifted uncomfortably and twisted his wrists under the Doctor's grip. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't sure he liked it.

 

With how close their minds were the Doctor had to know the Master's unease, but he continued slowly and deliberately. He let go of the Master's wrists and trailed his hands down the Master's chest, pausing to lightly pinch his nipples before coming to rest on his hips. The Master thrust upward to encourage the decent, but the Doctor kept his hands where they were, massaging small circles into the Master's hips.

 

The movements were nice to be sure, but the Master wanted more and the Doctor wasn't giving it to him. He was done waiting.

 

He planted his feet firmly and flipped them over.

 

The Master tangled his hands in the Doctor's hair and smashed their lips together, uncaring when he cut his lip on the Doctor's teeth. The taste of blood made his senses sing. He ground his hips in hard, groaning as his cock finally slotted perfectly alongside the Doctor's. The Master thrust and was awash in pleasure.

 

The Doctor's responding pleasure echoed in the distance of his mind.

 

“Good, isn't it?” He trust harder, and lost himself for a moment before the thrum in his skull grew impatient and again demanded more. He positioned himself over the Doctor.

 

The Doctor caught his hips, leaving marks that would bruise later. “Stop. You'll hurt yourself.”

 

“What makes you think I care?” The Master growled impatiently. He tried to sink down and felt a strong burn as his body protested. He choked back a whine, and then he was on his back and the pain was gone.

 

The Master threw his head back in frustration. “What are you waiting for?!”

 

“There's nothing wrong with taking it slow.”

 

“I don't need you to take it slow! I'm not going to break!” He thrashed and tried to flip them back over.

 

The Doctor got a firm grip on the Master's calves and dragged him down the bed, until his arse rested against the Doctor's knees. He positioned one leg over his shoulder, and then bent the Master in half as he reached for something in the bedside table. He came back with a small bottle of lube. “Always makes things better.”

 

“Always? How does it _always_ make things better? If I was conquering Earth, how would lube make it – _ah._ ”

 

The Doctor positioned a second finger and moved them gently in and out, scissoring and loosening as best he could.

 

The Master keened.

 

The Doctor inserted a third. He moved his hand slowly and deliberately, drawing out every sound he could from the Master's throat.

 

The Master couldn't deny that he was enjoying the Doctor's attention, but he still craved more. He needed it to hurt. He tried to escape the Doctor's hold and get the upper hand, but the Doctor had him exactly where he wanted him. The Master was powerless in this position. He gripped his hands in the sheets and scowled at the Doctor. “Enough, I'm ready, get on with it.”

 

The Doctor smiled and dragged his fingers firmly over the Master's prostate. He arched in the Doctor's grip, his back leaving the bed completely. “What makes you think I'm doing this for you?”

 

The Master glared pointedly. 

 

The Doctor nipped the Master's ear and whispered, “Maybe I'm doing it for me. Maybe I like seeing you writhing on my fingers.”

 

“Li – _ah!_ ”

 

The Doctor assaulted the Master's prostate with unerring precession. The Master bit his fist to smother the sounds he couldn't stop. The Doctor pulled it away. “No, no. I want to hear you.”

 

The Master didn't want to give in, but soon the room was filled with noises he would be ashamed of later. All the while the Doctor's serene face watched him fall apart.

 

“ _B-ba!-bastard.”_

 

“You love me.”

 

“ _Ng!_ ”

 

“Say you love me.”

 

The Master dragged the Doctor down and bit him.

 

The Doctor pressed hard and the Master cried out, arching painfully. “Please!”

 

“Say it.”

 

“No!”

 

“ _Master_.”

 

It was too much. His pride could take the blow. “ _Fuck. I love_ –”

 

The Doctor withdrew his fingers and the Master barely had time to register the loss before the Doctor sank into him fully.

 

The Master screamed.

 

The Doctor held himself perfectly still. His hands were anchored on the Master's thigh, and the curve of his back, offering support. He wasn't sure if the Master had done this before – he honestly didn't want to ask, he didn't want to think of anyone else enjoying this view – and he didn't want to rush into it and hurt him in any way. Nothing was worth that.

 

The Master's eyes had squeezed shut, and he'd turned his face, hiding it in the pillows scattered around him.

 

“Breathe.” The Doctor whispered.

 

He watched the Master take a large, shuddering breath. Then the Master flexed around him, and the Doctor groaned loudly in the silent room.

 

After a few moments the Master was able to relax and open his eyes. The Doctor was staring at him like he couldn't look away. And he couldn't. There was sweat on the Master's brow and on his chest, he was still flushed a charming red that reached the tips of his ears, his hands were probably shredding the sheets beneath them, and he was the most beautiful thing the Doctor had ever seen.

 

“Well?”

 

The Doctor grinned and gave an experimental thrust. The Master groaned and flexed. It started a delicious cycle.

 

Then the Doctor thrust again, and found a rhythm that suited him; it wasn't particularly fast, but it was deep, and powerful, making it was clear he had all the time in the world.

 

The Master's body sang with pleasure, even the tips of the Doctor's fingers giving jolts of almost electric sensation, but his mind was still rebelling. It didn't want to feel the depth of the emotion the Doctor was trying to wring from him, it wanted pain. It wanted their coupling to be hard and fast, for him to lie broken afterward. _You'll deserve it_ , it whispered, _you don't deserve this._ And the Master had to admit, it was true.

 

“Master?” The Doctor murmured. “Are you still with me?”

 

The Master snapped back to the Doctor's worried face. “ _Faster_.” He whispered. “ _Harder._ Do _something._ ”

 

“Hmm.” The Doctor bent the Master completely in half to nose at his neck. He pressed a kiss behind his ear, and licked at the sweat dampened skin. His pace remained steady.

 

The Master tried to close his eyes. The waves of pleasure were overwhelming, but his mind was still screaming out hate. He wasn't sure who it was directed at any more.

 

He finally gave over to it. He hated himself for it, but he was never able to resist the call of his mind.

 

Once he surrendered everything else seemed secondary, even the Doctor moving within him took on an outside quality.

 

There was a split second of confusion on the Doctor's face. Then the Master watched as his body began to fight, as his leg slipped off the Doctor's shoulder, and as he managed to flip them over, knocking them both off the bed. The Master narrowly avoided cracking his head open on the bedside table on the way down. They landed with the Master on top, and somehow the Doctor was still inside him.

 

His grin was feral. He raised his body until only the tip of the Doctor's cock remained, then slammed back down. The Doctor's head fell back as he groaned deeply. The Master's teeth flashed, and then he was moving hard and fast, leaving the Doctor helpless to do anything but meet the Master with thrusts of his own.

 

The ringing in the Master's head began to fade back, and he started to feel his body again. He faltered for a moment as he took over, but his mind pressed him to keep up the pace. And he has to agree with it on this point. He wanted, _needed_ to feel this for days. He needed every reminder, anything that would help him hold onto this moment for as long as he could, because while the Doctor may want to live in a sugar coated fairy tale of his own creating, the Master knew how life really worked. He knew this may be their only chance, and he wanted to hold onto every bruise, every mark, and every ache. Everything from this night. Everything that would let him know it was real.

 

The Master screwed his eyes shut as he tried to keep it all in mind. As he tried to make it last. He didn't notice the Doctor slip into his mind, or the tears that started to track down his cheeks.

 

The Doctor slipped out of his mind with less finesse than he usually displayed and sat up, the change in angle completely throwing off the Master's pace.

 

Before the Master could complain, the Doctor kissed him firmly, silencing him. The Master decided to let it pass, and wrapped his arms around the Doctor's neck, losing himself to it.

 

The Doctor allowed this for a few minutes, then his hands drifted until they got a firm grip on the Master's hips. He shoved him up and back hard, knocking the Master back onto the bed.

 

The Master was disoriented and a bit confused. Then the thrumming in his mind reared up angrily and demanded he shove the Doctor down and take everything, but the Doctor was already up, already on him.

 

The Master glared angrily, but before he could say anything the Doctor sank back into him.

 

The Master failed to stifle the moan that slipped past his lips.

 

He was hopeful he'd angered the Doctor, and that he'd take it out on their coupling, but the Doctor resumed his pace. The Master could swear he even slowed down, just to mess with him.

 

“You ready?” The Doctor teased. He hiked the Master back into position, and slammed in, hitting the Master's prostate with every thrust.

 

The Master struggled fitfully, his hands finally going up to push back against the headboard, a litany of swear words falling from his lips in so many languages the TARDIS had to hurry to keep up, until all that came out was Gallifreyan.

 

The thrumming was deafening, and he felt himself drifting away again. The black started at the corner of his vision and worked its way up, until all that was left were the Doctor's eyes. Then his mind was flooded with warmth, love, acceptance. And the Doctor was in his mind with him. He was all encompassing.

 

The Doctor's mind smoothed over his, and then his mind was silent. The thrumming was gone.

 

The Master gasped in the sudden silence, pleasure overloading every sense he had, and then his orgasm blindsided him, his  vision whiting out. The Doctor gripped the Master's hips and road him through it, then followed quickly after.

 

When the Master finally came back to himself his limbs were entwined with the Doctor's. He wasn't even certain who was technically on top, though he was going to go ahead and claim the title if only because he could.

 

The Doctor laughed affectionately and deliberately rolled, tugging at the Master until he rested against the Doctor's chest. Once the Master was settled, he nuzzled into the Master's neck, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in as close as possible.

 

“I didn't realize you were part octopus.” The Master grumbled half heartedly.

 

The Doctor hummed and tightened his grip.

 

The Master expected his mind to rise up, but it remained silent, until he finally just let himself relax into the Doctor's embrace.

 

Before he could drift off to sleep, the Doctor's mind caressed his. The Master's mind reached out to meet it and meshed with it. The Master finally fell asleep running through fields of red grass, hand in hand with his Theta. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the moment, I am considering this the last chapter. There might be more later (Jack keeps invading my dreams...) and you are free to leave suggestions for places you'd like to see this story go, but I can't promise anything. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please leave a comment or kudos! :D Thanks for reading!


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